Letters from Xhale the magazine Words that breathe. Stories that Linger,

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This piece began as a quiet question: how do we speak when words feel clumsy, when feeling arrives faster than language? In “Language of Light,” I was reaching for the ways illumination itself—sunrise on a wall, a screen’s glow, a lamp left on for someone—can reveal, translate, and tether us to one another beyond anything we manage to say.

A Black woman standing in a beam of light that seems to emanate from within her — her skin glowing golden, eyes closed, head tilted slightly, as if she is speaking a language only light understands. Deep dark background, dramatic chiaroscuro, warm amber and gold tones. Painterly, cinematic, spiritual. The feeling of a woman who communicates beyond words — through luminance, presence, and soul.

Language of Light

Who can tell me how to feel today?
The morning asks, but does not answer.
Feelings rise like quiet tides—
uninvited, yet deeply mine.

To care for another
is to carry intention in soft hands,
to speak in the language of peace
even when the heart trembles.

What is this—
a wonderful wound of love?
A place where hurt and hope
share the same breath,
where tenderness aches
but refuses to close.

I do not wish to harden.
I do not wish to turn away.
So I gather my words slowly,
rinse them in patience,
and offer them without blame:

“I care for you…
and still, I felt the breaking.”

Can I learn to see
through another’s storm?
Not to agree,
but to understand
the shape of their weather.

Language of Light

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