Where the Light Hides

It wasn’t just a tear. It was a shift,

a fracture in the story I thought I was writing.

They said I’d come back,

but they didn’t warn me

about the quiet lessons that would follow.

The world no longer moved the way I expected.

Sprints turned into slow steps.

Chasing perfection gave way to understanding

that some things take time,

and others, like strength,

take far more than you ever imagined.

I learned patience, not the kind

that sits in idle waiting,

but the kind that works,

shows up,

and gives itself grace

even when it feels like nothing is changing.

It taught me that victory doesn’t always wear a medal.

Sometimes it’s the mornings

when you can finally bend your knee.

The days when “just one more” doesn’t mean more work,

but simply trying again.

I used to think I was strong

because I pushed through every limit.

Now I see strength in being still,

in letting go,

in understanding that recovery is not defeat.

It is the space between who you were

and who you are becoming.

The light doesn’t always shine bright.

Sometimes, it flickers in the quiet,

when you realise the journey itself

is where the real change happens.