Illumined

What is one word that describes you?

Illumined

I wasn’t born with all the answers,

but I was born with a light.

A flicker.

A knowing.

A sense that there was more beneath the surface,

and that I was here to feel it,

name it,

and guide others through it.

I’ve walked through rooms where the air felt heavy

and still knew how to breathe.

I’ve stood beside those drowning in silence

and somehow knew when to speak.

Not because I had the perfect words,

but because I carried something older than words.

Call it intuition.

Call it grace.

Call it the residue of angels

or the aftermath of being cracked open

and letting the light pour through.

I’ve been touched by moments I couldn’t explain,

lifted from danger by invisible hands,

stilled in my panic by voices that knew my name

before I ever spoke it.

And now, I understand:

I was never just surviving.

I was being illumined.

Lit from within by every trial,

every sacred whisper,

every soul that crossed my path to remind me,

you are not alone.

You are not crazy.

You are not too much.

You are the lamp in the dark,

the soft answer in the storm,

the reminder someone else has been praying for.

I carry my stories like lanterns.

I offer them without shame.

Because somewhere, someone is still standing

at the top of an escalator,

or rushing toward a bridge,

and all they need is one beam of light

to remind them.

we are held.

we are seen.

and we are never, ever walking alone.