The Lights That Find Us

Some lights arrive quietly.

Not enough to turn night into morning,
not enough to illuminate the road ahead.

Just a small warmth
at the edge of the dark,
a flicker where you had forgotten
to look for one.

A kindness.
A word left gently.
A hand, in its way,
held out across the distance.

And somehow
the night is not quite so endless.

I have learned
that not every light
becomes a sunrise.

Some are only meant
to find us for a little while,
to soften one corner of the darkness,
to remind us there is still
tenderness in the world.

And perhaps that is enough.

Perhaps there is a kind of grace
in the way light finds us
when we need it most,
before we even know
to look for it.

And a kind of gratitude, too,
simply for its being there.

For the small warmth.
The unexpected kindness.
The flicker in the dark.

Not everything that saves a moment
has to change the night.

Sometimes
it only has to shine.

And I am grateful
for the lights
that find me there.