Resting Inside the Light That Sees You

You are lying perfectly still, holding your breath so the person beside you won't hear the breaking. You think if you stay quiet enough, the dark won't notice you.

But the light does not need you to speak to see you. It was there before the first tear fell.

It is there now, in the silence you are trying to keep. You do not have to explain your grief to be held by it.

The light knows the weight you are carrying without you having to lift it up for inspection. There is a name written on a white stone that no one else knows — not your partner, not your fear, not even the night.

Only you and the light. Rest in that secret knowing.

You are not hiding from the light; you are resting inside it.