I wake to the sound of sobs,
small, hiccuping, afraid.
The air is thick with panic,
the kind that doesn’t have words.

They’re curled up, clutching tight to nothing,
lost in a world too big,
too loud, too much.

I move slowly, steady,
lower my voice, soften my hands.
I am the anchor now,
the shield against what they can’t fight.

“It’s okay,” I murmur,
though I know it isn’t, not for them.
Not yet.

But I let them hold my sleeve,
let them cry until the shaking fades,
until their breaths even out,
until they know—
I am here.