A letter from Jacob

I see you.
Not the mask you wear,
not the voice you crafted to keep the peace,
but the ache beneath the armor.
The one who stayed awake
long after the world turned quiet.
You are not lost.
You are in the fight.

There was a night like this before,
when the stars watched a soul
clash with something divine and unrelenting.
No words, just breath and bruise,
dust rising from the earth like incense.
It was not a fight to win.
But a struggle to be known.
The blessing did not come with a crown,
but a limp.
A new name etched in bone.
A life split open, not to be emptied,
but to be filled.

And this,
this space you’re in is sacred.
Not because it is painless,
but because it is real.
So stay.
Stay in the long night.
Let the silence strip you.
Let the mystery mark you.
Let the false names fall away.
The dawn will not come empty-handed.
You will rise not as the one who ran,
but as the one who stayed.
The one who faced the shadow
and whispered,
“I will not let go until I am made true.”

And you will be.