©ESR 2026

If you crack,

let it be like sea glass,

weathered by the tide,

not broken,

but shaped.

If you tremble,

I will not ask for stillness.

I will sit beside the shake of your breath

and count each one as proof:

you’re still here.

You’re still trying.

If you forget how to be strong,

I’ll remind you:

strength isn’t silence.

It’s the sob in your throat

that refuses to stay buried.

It’s the whisper of your name

when you speak it

even when it trembles.

Let the storm come.

Let it pour.

And I’ll hold you

like a lantern in the wind,

my light flickering only to say:

“I’m not leaving.”

You are not a ruin.

You are a cathedral

with stained glass ribs,

your pain has made mosaics

no one else could.

So crack, if you must.

I’ll be right here.

And when you’re ready,

we’ll gather every shattered piece

and begin again,

not as you were,

but as something

even more rare.