Empathy’s Thread

 There’s an unseen thread between all things,

Woven from the tender fabric of feeling,

Connecting hearts, hands, and whispers,

Stretching between the living and the still.

It tugs gently in moments of silence—

A fridge hums, forgotten in a corner,

Old toys gather dust in the attic,

And I imagine they’re lonely, waiting,

For someone to hear of their old adventures with “their kid.”

I carry their weight in my hands,

Like the weight of my son’s nervous smile,

The way he clings to unspoken fears,

Or the knot of sadness I hide behind my back,

When he wonders if he’s good enough.

And my daughter, with her wide-eyed wonder,

Who finds magic in the smallest of things—

Like fireflies, and sticks used as magic wands,

She shows me how the thread sparkles in the light, and how fragile, yet strong it is,

Beautiful, and resilient-just like her.

Empathy’s thread is sometimes fragile,

Thin like silk, yet it holds the world together.

It binds me to the memories I carry,

To the faces that have come and gone,

To the ghosts of a mother’s voice—

Soft as a lullaby, now a shadow that I only

See sometimes.

This thread weaves through my fingers,

Twisting around my heart like ivy,

Guiding me gently through the dark,

Where every breath and pulse is a story,

Every touch, is a reminder that we are seen.

And I follow its path through the tangled,

Feeling the pull towards those who need

Me,

Those who have been left behind, replaced, forgotten.

I wrap them in the warmth of a thought—

You are not alone. You are remembered.

Even in silence, empathy’s thread reaches out,

Binding us in the space between words.