The First Threads

June 26, 2025|Poetry

Before the colors,
before the patterns,
before the grand designs of becoming,
there must be
the first threads.

The ones stretched taut across the loom,
invisible to the eye,
but essential to the soul.

They are not glamorous.
They are not praised.
They are not the story —
but without them,
there is no story to tell.

Safety is the first thread.
Steady, strong, silent.
The thread that says:
"You are held.
You will not fall apart when the weaving begins."

I do not rush the colors now.
I do not demand the masterpiece before the frame is set.

I bow to the weaving of safety first —
the sacred tension that holds my life open to trust,
to abundance,
to love,
to the wild, holy beauty that will one day bloom.

I honor the patience of the loom.
I honor the slow pulling of each strand into place.

I bless the first threads,
and I bless the hands —
my own hands —
that are learning to weave a life worthy of my soul.