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Not every rescue

arrives with sirens.

Sometimes,

it’s just a voice—

low,

careful,

true—

saying,

“You’ll get through this.”

No map,

no fix,

just presence.

A soft thread

woven through

a frayed day.

And those of us

who have sat too long

in rooms where the silence

was louder than our breath—

we know

what such words are worth.

They don’t promise

the fire will end—

only that

we’re not alone

inside it.

And that—

sometimes—

is enough

to begin again.