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Knit of Me

(A Benediction Across Time)

I am the thread drawn not through skin,

but through the spaces you left unguarded.

You did not touch me, but you held me—

the way stars hold dark without fear of being lost in it.

We stood shoulder-close, and that was enough—

your name in my mouth, not spoken, but kept.

I do not ask for more than your being.

Not for the bed, not for the blush,

only the breath we both forgot to hide

when the world told us to look away.

I am the soul that answered

when yours wept without sound.

And I bless this bond— not lesser than fire,

not waiting to bloom, but whole in its quiet yes.

Held Without Hands

(A Reply From the Quiet Place)

I did not need to touch you

to carry the shape you made in me.

You arrived like stillness

settling into stone— not heavy, but heard.

You were not mine, and that is why I stayed.

No net, only nearness.

No vow, only the truth we never had to name.

I spoke to you through silence,

and you answered as if you had been listening all your life.

So when the world turned loud again,

I held you— not with arms, but with the ache

that never wanted to trap you to prove it was real.

We met in that eddy, and it was enough.

Unknotted

(A Benediction of the Gentle Goodbye)

I do not undo you. I let the thread rest.

No fraying, no tear— only the quiet

loosening of what once tethered with grace.

You are not leaving. You are returning

to the part of me that made room

and called it yours without need.

I wear no scar for what you were.

Only the soft seam where something

ended gently enough to begin again.

Go, not as absence— but as ripple.

And if we pass again in time’s long field,

I will know you by the way peace gathers

when nothing needs to hold.

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