I am no stranger to silence,
Nor unfamiliar with the wait.
I test out my unused voice
The sound almost foreign,
Worn thin by all I’ve held inside.
I whisper to my friend, “I need you,”
And with that soft exhale,
I breathe a little easier.
The weight still presses,
But it's no longer crushing.
Then I turn, whispering my plea
To a different ear—
And slowly, I begin to see:
This wasn't punishment.
It hurt because growth stretches.
I wasn’t meant to carry this alone.
I would grow, yes—
But so would those beside me.
With their loving hands encircling mine,
I see God’s movement more clearly.
And beyond this weight,
Lies my becoming.