The Quiet After the Fire

There is a silence I no longer fear.

A quiet that doesn’t feel like punishment, but like a pause between my prayers being heard and the answers arriving.

I used to dread these still moments.

I thought they meant abandonment, but now, I know better.

The silence was never empty. It was God clearing the space so I could finally hear my own voice echoing back.

There is a healing happening inside me that doesn’t scream, doesn’t chase applause.

It just is, soft, sacred, and solid.

Like morning sun warming the floor. Like breath after the weeping ends.

I’m learning to rest in the in-between. To honor the pause. To trust that what’s meant for me won’t rush, won’t run, it will rise when I do.

Today, I do not hustle. I do not strive. I simply be.

Because the fire has passed, and I am still standing in the quiet where the light begins again.