Today Does Not Arrive Loudly
Today does not arrive loudly.
It comes like a gentle hand on the shoulder,
like light through a curtain,
like the quiet reminder
that I am still here.
There is work to do,
but also breath to receive.
There are wounds still mending,
hopes still waiting,
questions still walking beside me
like old friends.
Not every day has to become
a monument.
Some days are simply stones
placed along the path—
small, ordinary,
but enough to say:
I passed this way.
I noticed the light.
I carried what I could.
I let God carry the rest.

