I tried to weave myself 
into a sensible pattern
to fashion a warm blanket 
of silks and colors
that would protect my fragile
body and spirit
from the unsettling ways of this world

over the years
my thread had grown so
tattered and frayed
it would no longer fit into
the eye of the needle
that I gripped like a tiny sword
no matter how deeply I held my breath
or squinted my burning eyes
to try to maneuver the smallest gap

in this life
I have realized 
I am but one small thread
and I am not the weaver
or the seamstress
I am not meant to control the fabric design
but to allow myself to be woven
bent, pulled, and twisted
into creation

when my single thread 
finds connection in yours
we become stronger
in community 
we are held in light
allowing our colors to shine
as the weaver delicately 
blends us together
intentionally
into a glorious 
tapestry