The Magic She Gave Me

She did not hand me spells
wrapped in silk and shadow.

She gave me her hands—
steady, sure, scarred by living—
and a scarf that shimmered with every lesson
she folded into my heart.

Her magic was in the way she said my name,
in how she saw me before I saw myself.

When she let go,
the scarf glowed with my own light.
And I finally understood—
her gift wasn’t power.
It was the knowing
that I had always carried it.