Not Yet Mended, But Stronger

I am the quilted sheet that comforts you as you clench it over your head in fright.

It is louder now, as I am the band, just as the Beatles, ever so amusing with their mere sight.

I can be and am the most intricate book on that maple bookcase at the very top mount.

Can’t you see that I am the first star that boomed the universe and shone so brightly lit?

I am not the grass, but the singed hay that sways still in the wind, with ever the most life still blazing in it.

When you see yourself in the mirror, I am the reflector that makes it possible to view.

I am the maze of vines that climb up that withered wall, and as it falls, I still grew.

I am not the bee, but the pollen that forms the sweetness of bittersweet honey.

I am not the blinds, but the spindle that opens them so you can see the horizons clearly.

I am not the duck, but the lubricant that smothers its outer layer, so the water can slide so surely.

I am the determination that breathes in his soul, not the gun that is held in the soldier’s palms.

I am not the thunder, but the rain that helps as it soothes and calms.

It’s broken, it’s not mended, it’s not sewn up, but it is stronger, it beats faster, with no more tears, no more fears.

I can see ahead now. I can walk with two feet and feel it with not just my toes, but my heels, and I don’t care if no one cares.

I am me, I am a woman now, and can withstand all that surpasses me. I am stronger than you or anything.

I am not the mill, but the feet that run on it that make it go, as I now can listen to my heart sing.

~~ Janie Welsh ~~