picking up the pieces
a reflection on healing












i think it is time to pick up the pieces
the scraps from the quilt i'd shredded
who knows how they will come back together
i weep at the mess of it all







and what a mess it was
it's so unlike me to let such chaos tangle
but it did
and its unraveling threads threaten to bind me up
it was on that park bench
faced with the truth that my life was on the line
(though i swear i was already dead)
that i decided to pick up that first piece


okay i lied
i had no agency over the choice to save my life
like most things before you ... it just happened to me
the wind's bitter chill brought inevitable change
the gusts had scrambled everything
i fear i have forgotten the protection of warmth
but maybe that is for the best
i'll find solace in its construction



because now i can look at you
really look
and confess that a slip had turned into a spiral
my nervous hands are learning to weave
i'm staring at these pieces
building strength to knot together a few more
it's hard now that i'm no longer numb
i won't allow myself to abandon its overwhelming protection






so i shall tirelessly collect
and connect
because i'm worth of this blanket, this comfort, this life
i'm more than just pieces of previous warmth