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.