The Quilt of Me

Stitched together, patch by patch,

A tapestry of moments no thread can match.

Each square a story, each seam a line,

Bound by the fabric of a life that’s mine.

Here’s a corner, frayed and torn,

Where I learned to rise from the scorn.

There’s a patch, all colors bright,

A burst of joy, a summer’s light.

Threads of gold from a fleeting friend,

Worn but shining, they never end.

A darker piece, so heavy, so cold,

Yet it taught me the strength to hold.

Some squares are plain, their colors fade,

Yet quiet moments where peace was made.

Others align in a perfect array,

The rhythm of love, a dancer’s sway.

The hands that quilted were not my own,

Guided by whispers, by winds unknown.

An ancestor’s hymn, a stranger’s gaze,

Their essence woven into my days.

And though the edges remain unfinished,

A work in progress, never diminished.

Each stitch tells a story, a thread, a plea—

Together they form the quilt of me.

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The Quilt of Me – A Poem by Samantha Syrnich