Scroll VI: The Touch

She Didn’t Need to Speak—Her Presence Was the Prayer.

Before she was taught to shrink,
she healed with her hands.
With her laugh.
With the way she sat beside pain
and didn’t try to fix it—
just felt it with you.

This is the scroll of transmission without effort.
Where her very being becomes the blessing.
Not because she tries—
but because she has cleared enough to let the current move through.

She doesn’t offer herself to be used.
She offers what’s overflowing.

The touch isn’t always physical.
It can be a gaze.
A stillness.
A word that somehow unlocks a hidden door
you forgot was even there.

This scroll reclaims the body
not as bait,
not as burden—
but as living altar.

She walks into the room
and truth starts realigning.
Because when she touches,
she doesn’t give energy—
she reminds it where it came from.

She is not a healer.
She is a homecoming.