It matters not if the sky is perforated with drops of rain,
or radiant, golden beads of sunlight,
I wake each day to breathe the ruptured air
and climb onto my toes to reach new elevations.
I am like the needle pulling thread,
the thread that mends,
the soul that heals,
the heart that needs stitching
since it’s been broken now and again,
my thoughts torn and unraveled,
hoping that happiness will come along
or that I will stumble my way
through the downward drops
and messy puddles,
to play joyfully in the rain,
wondering if I am the needle,
the thread,
or the unwoven fabric.
© Connie Song 2022. All Rights Reserved.