Patchwork

by Abiola Regan

I am not much of a seamstress.
Despite my best efforts,
The most I can manage today
Is holding myself together
With a shoddy patchwork
Of claustrophobia and sadness.
Not the most robust framework.
But my usual materials of
Incandescence and generosity
Are suddenly in short supply.
No one can tell me when
The next order will arrive,
So I try to wait patiently
As the garments of me wear thin.
Then I see the shining as I approach
A set of lights draped around
The branches of a forlorn tree,
Almost comical in their obviousness.
But for me, it is enough.
They are not there solely for me
But on this day, who knows for sure?
I hover, grateful for the glow
Then begin the painstaking work
Of sewing pieces back together
In awe over each new stitch,
My craftsmanship grows stronger
Until the fabric of me is solid.

Abiola Regan writes poetry and fiction. Her academic background in psychology and love of pop culture find their way into her writing as she explores relationship dynamics between individuals as well as with one's self. Her work has appeared in Dreamers Creative Writing, Coronaverses, and The Lumiere Review.