Sunday, February 19, 2017

Poem: My Glorious Jacket

Early morning and I
have not yet slept.
Wrapped in worn flannel
I step out into the predawn fog
and move toward that place
where I go to be alone and still.

I am trying to piece the parts
of my life together, but they
do not hold, the patterns
and colors will not blend.

My life is like a patchwork jacket
made of mismatched fabrics and
fastened with found buttons.
Though it is not stylish,
this is the jacket I love,
it is warm, it is mine, it is
full of color and contrast and memories.

May I tell you my favorite part?
It is the pockets!
There are many pockets:
some that zip, some that button,
some that stand open, one that is
tied with a green velvet ribbon,
and each of them holds a treasure;
a small sparkling stone, a blue marble,
the feather from a Mockingbird,
a shell from the seashore.

And there is this:
pinned to the lining,
is a single small, silver bell
which rings as I walk.




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