The Quilt

Sown together,
A patchwork quilt,
Torn and worn
Through all the years.

Sew places torn.
Patch places worn.
Put away to be used again.
Soft and broken in.
But not much left
To cushion or to warm
Against the chill of autumn,
The cold of winter, or the setting sun.
Not much left to be any good at all.

You’d have to take it apart.
Re-stitch, re-sew, replace the batting,
Find new scrapes and cut to make the pieces fit.
Wouldn’t it be better to start from scratch
Than to try to re-make something so old, so worn, so weary?
Wearied from the years of sheltering breaking hearts,
Wearied from the years of taking tears,
Wearied of being tossed to the floor
When the needing time ended,
Wearied of being the place
Of softness
For everyone else,
But itself.

Published by

Annette Kalandros

I am a retired teacher, enjoying everything that retirement means. In addition, I have been active in the LGBTQ community since I was four years old and marched my Ken doll with all his little Ken accouterments to the big metal trash can in the yard. Yes, I dumped Ken, along with said accouterments, into the can and slammed the lid on. My two Barbie dolls lived happily ever after.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s

This site uses Akismet to reduce spam. Learn how your comment data is processed.