She says:
Hold on to yourself.
You are not done unraveling,
pulling thread
upon thread from the ply.
Trust, have faith.
Soon all the stories
that were not yours
will be spun out
pulled from the liminal edge
of your sacred space;
cast to the wind
to spiral pirouetting
into their own destinies.
Not yours though,
untwined and rubbed raw

you will come before me
to ask the question
that is yours alone to ask;
A circle opening and closing,
creating the sanctuary
Of your being

Can you feel it?
The healing sway
of the willow tilting
your grounding to beyond

Can you hear it?
The red-winged call of blackbird
parting the veil
to wilding mystery

I am here
I have always been here
The sacred weave
Of your numinous holding.

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