Good is coming

Sometimes, I just want to know that something good is coming.

Not even right now, just eventually.

I want to see the faint outline of it on the horizon,

even if it’s hazy through the tears.

Even if I can’t make out the details.

Just… something.

Some flicker of light.

Some hint of morning on the other side of this long, exhausting night.

Sometimes I just want to know why.

Not the whole story.

Not the grand unraveling of mystery,

just a whisper of purpose.

Just something to tether all this ache to meaning.

Something to make the heartbreak feel like it wasn’t wasted.

Something to make this wilderness feel like it’s leading somewhere holy.

I don’t even need full clarity.

Just a breadcrumb trail of hope.

Sometimes I just want to feel something.

Something other than pain.

Something other than the gnawing ache of absence.

Something besides the thousand invisible cracks

that spiderweb through my soul from holding so much,for so long.

Sometimes I feel like I’ve carried the weight of the world in the silence of my chest,

and all it’s made me is numb.

Not weak. Just worn.

Numb from the grief I didn’t have time to grieve.

Numb from smiling while silently unraveling.

Numb from showing up when all I wanted was to disappear.

But maybe that, too, is a kind of prayer.

Maybe the ache is a cry, a sacred one.

And maybe Heaven hears what my mouth can’t say.

Maybe something good is coming.

Even if I can’t see it.

Even if it’s wrapped in ordinary days and slow healing.

Maybe the answer isn’t “why” but “I’m with you.”

Maybe the feeling I’m craving

isn’t a rush of happiness but the stillness of being held.

So tonight I’ll breathe.

Even if it hurts.

I’ll breathe and believe

that something beautiful is being born out of the breaking.

That this ache will one day sing.

That this valley is not the end of the story.

That joy is still possible, still promised.

Because sometimes all we have is hope.

And sometimes, hope is enough to carry us home.