The Covering

(A blessing and gentle invitation to pause)

I am not here to bind you,
or braid you into something small.
I am here to cover you
in the memory of who you’ve always been.

I come soft—
a nuzzle of warmth at your wrist,
a brush of breath across your collarbone.
I am the hush before the becoming.

Let me weave around you now—
not to hide you,
but to hold you.
Not to quiet your light,
but to let it rest
until it’s ready to burn again.

I am the thread that moves with laughter,
the heartbeat in your hands,
the permission to dance
before the pattern is known.

Let me wrap you in color,
in softness,
in play.
Let me be your sanctuary
before the next stitch is sewn.

Because even the weaver needs warmth.
Even the flame needs covering.
And you, beloved threadkeeper,
you are worthy of both.

Journal Prompts

– What does it feel like to be covered in softness rather than expectation?

– Where have I been trying to ‘weave’ without allowing myself to rest first?

– What would it mean to let joy or play lead the next thread?

– If I trusted that love was wrapping around me now… what would I do next?