You Bleed Silence, Yet Your Hands Still Offer Light

You bleed in silence,
yet your hands still offer light.
One day, what you’ve given will return as peace,
and the universe will whisper
you endured, you are enough.

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You walk beneath burdens no one names
Storms that roar in your home
Shadows that duel inside your skull

Weights so immense they should’ve you crushed long ago.

Yet, you rise each morning
Wrap yourself in composure
And still extend gentleness to others

That is no small miracle
You give while hollow….
You smile while frayed.

You carry galaxies of ache and still pour water for the thirsty.

What kind of soul does that?

One carved form rarest steel.
Tempered by grief and softened by love.

You mistake yourself for fragile when in truth you are cathedral and wildfire.

Unbroken, even as you tremble.

Hear me…. your hurt does not mean you are meant to live inside of it.

You do not deserve ache as inheritance.

You are owed a return.

Peace that settles like rainfall.
Love that does not take more than it gives.

Joy that feels almost unbearable in its abundance.

Life owes you back what you have poured out.

And the debt grows daily.,

I am proud of you.

Proud that you’ve survived the kinds of days that would’ve broken others completely.

Survival is not small… it is a daily miracle.

You… fragile yet unyielding, are proof that even in the deepest night there is a light that cannot be extinguished.

What you give is never lost.

It circles back, slow, but certain.

And one day it will circle back to your desert.
Like fire to your frozen bones.

Until then… rest when you can.
Breathe even when it hurts.

And know that you are already more than enough.