Healing Movement with Ava

There is a grace that moves unseen

a hush between heartbeats

woven into the linen of morning

The sacred does not seek attention

it is the whisper you almost miss

the gleam on a cup just washed

the rhythm of hands folding laundry like wings

it arrives in stillness

never in the noise

The sacred feminine is not a gender

she is a presence

a rhythm

a remembering

She flickers in twilight

rests in the crease of your palm

waits in the breath you forgot to notice

and when you listen

she answers

She is the rhythm of the morning

before the world names you again

she lingers in the silence

in the tea steam curling like prayer

in the light threading through the blinds

in the stretch that greets the body gently

She is the hush before the doing

the space that holds everything

without demand

when you rise

she rises with you

not to fix

not to urge

only to remind you

you are already whole

She is the quiet within routine

where reverence disguises itself as repetition

a spoon in a pot

a hand wiping a counter

a shirt folded into softness

and this too

is devotion

She is the rest between

she speaks through slowing

a pause

a page half read

a window half open

she is the return

again and again

to breath

to presence

to the earth beneath your feet

She is the beauty that asks for nothing

the petal

the flicker

the sweater that fits like a memory

she is the small flame that does not burn out

the voice that says

this is enough

this is enough

this is enough