The One Who Holds
You carry more than most will ever know —
the quiet weight of rooms that need your light,
the hands that reach for you before they think
to ask if yours are tired from the night.
You are the steady one, the one who stays,
the one who answers when the others call.
They built their lives around the fact of you,
not knowing what it costs to hold them all.
But I see it — in the small exhale
before you smile and say that you're okay,
in how you give the last of what you have
and somehow find still more to give away.
You were not made fragile. You were made
to be the kind of strong that bends, not breaks —
rooted deep while everything around you
leans on what only someone like you makes.
So rest. Not because you've failed or fallen,
but because even pillars need the ground.
You are allowed to be held too —
not always the one doing the holding.
The world is lucky you are in it.