The weaver woman

This woman does not wait for permission.
She does not wait to walk, and she does not bend her knees in submission.
This woman walks.

And when she walks into a room, people see her. They notice her.

She has done the healing. She has been broken before. Her sweetness has been taken from her before. Yet none of that turned her heart dark. Instead, it turned her heart toward forgiveness.

She walks with light, and the light walks with her.

When people meet her, they say she is different. They see it in her smile, in her thoughts, and in the truth she carries. Some are inspired by her. Some are afraid of her. Some even call her evil—not because she is, but because she is not afraid to speak the truth.

You may try to bind her, but the moment she feels the chains, she walks away. Nothing can hold her—not systems, not misery. Even when they told her she was born poor, she proved that her spirit did not come here poor.

She knows how to laugh, and she knows how to cry.

She cries for her own pain, for the pain of children, and for those most in need. She cries for the forgotten ones—the ones who carry power but no longer remember it. The ones who have walked away from themselves. The ones who have forgotten their history.

She sees the chains around people’s necks, and she grieves for them. In her sleep, she calls them home, even when they cannot hear her.

She is the Weaver Woman.

She weaves her own destiny—the one that brings her peace, love, and balance: mentally, physically, and spiritually.

And I believe we all come from her.
We all carry her within us.
We can all stand in our power and say:

Enough.