the art of mending.
a post election poem
we are torn apart
as if we had forgotten
we are one fabric--
cut from the same cloth
of flesh, bone, and desire.
Separate as we are
we cry like children
ripped from
their mother's arms
or a limb wrenched
from the body,
uselessly flailing.
We must now
take up the art
of mending--
threading our lives
stitch by stitch,
seam by seam
until we are bound
by the frayed truth
that has always been:
we belong
to each other.
