Have I gone too far?

I have pulled out so many threads,

stitched them back so many times,

that my fabric is marred with holes.

Is my dress beyond repair?

I must find my pattern

then, piece by piece,

stitch myself back together again.

Oh, how easy it is for others who barely plucked a seam,

and have never fallen from their wall.

They seem to float about their day,

and have no cracks at all.

I somehow have been given two worlds.

I see all that is beautiful and possible

yet it sits in

the shadow of my closet filled with masks,

and everything that I am not.

I have sat quietly and pulled out my threads.

But also at times,

witnessed great beauty instead.

Maybe… maybe…

just seeing my threads

Is the key to my lock.

Whether they are sewn

or tucked away,

I have felt each one.

Maybe…

there was never anything to fix,

that our gifts lie in the empty holes where our threads once were stitched.

When our hands hold our darns and loose strings,

we are brought to our knees.

Everything is so clear from the floor,

one can even count the stars.

Maybe…maybe...

much is given to those who work

from a fabric filled with scars.❤️

maybe...(p.44)