Small Light

There’s a light that lives in the smallest of things—
A sigh in the quiet, the brush of soft wings.
It hums in the hush of the first morning blue,
A promise that says, “The dark isn’t you.”

You’ve carried so much in silence and fear,
But still—you are here. You are still here.
Like petals that open in spite of the rain,
Or laughter that rises right out of the pain.

You don’t need to shine like a star in the sky,
Some days just a flicker is how you get by.
But even a flicker can warm up the cold,
And light up the pieces you thought you let go.

So take one more breath. Let the heaviness be.
You are still growing, so tender, so free.
Not broken—becoming, in your quiet fight.
And even right now, you are holding that light.