Capable of Wholeness

Scraps of cloth
and old thread,
the things others throw away,
tied together
with the patience of God,
an insistence
that, frayed as I am,
I am worth saving,
worth patching together,
quilt like, aware
that even if I can’t see it ,
there is a pattern,
worth saving,
capable of wholeness.

About this poem

I was flat this morning, and as I often do when I am flat, I went through my pictures looking for inspiration.

This one was taken at the Albany Institute of Art and History a week or two ago, part of an exhibit of quilts and fabrics, and I could not help but think of the metaphor of a patchwork quilt and a person being rebuilt by love (by God or a person). And from that, this poem.