Photo by Nilay Ramoliya from Pexels

I have sewn these seams a hundred times:
Letting out,
Taking in,

Adjusting for change,
Suturing wounds
And mending the tears
Through which too many have left, 
Exposing for a moment
That which I wish to keep hidden:
Tender flesh, secret places, 
A soul worn and tattered; 
Safely concealed 
Beneath the careful tailoring
And confident colour
Of that which I display to the world.

In the quietness of my sanctuary,
I gather my fraying finery
Close to my breast,
Protective of its frailty,
I  weep, 
Overwhelmed by the agony
Of an injury so profound
It may never be repaired.

And then,
Because I have no choice,
I begin to stitch,
Yet again.

©2020 Joanne Van Leerdam


3 thoughts on “Mending.

Add yours

  1. I’ve sat here for too long trying to come up with words to express the heart-rending beauty of your poetry and how, as a fellow orphan, reading it somehow made me feel a bit less lonesome. I can’t find adequate words. Thank you for this.

    Liked by 1 person

  2. Reblogged this on WordyNerdBird and commented:

    This poem uses imagery of sewing, fabric and clothing to express the emotional realities of the grieving process: it doesn’t get easier, it changes over time. Each experience of loss adds another trauma that we have to try to mend.

    Your feedback on my poem or on my introductory thoughts is welcome.


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