my spirit needs mending
but I have no coloured thread
to darn these fraying burdens

the eye of this needle lay gaping and empty
and I am standing on its edge ready to fall through

a knot to my ankle, and my fast surrender,
and I’ll fly deeply in to weave new dreams

a fresher self with perfect stitching
– an un-perished disaster –
still surviving in spite of her erupted soul

© Tamara Natividad | pisceanesque.com | Written 19 May, 2017