they did not know she had millions, neither did she. just collected one item at a time, cared fully for each one of them. catalogued in eternally.

words affect us deeply. voices come and go. while the worlds spins with people’s chaos and confusion. yet. above the noise of the day they show me birds and insects did you know they cross their fragile legs?

did you find a pin there, did you pick it up and stick it? did you stay safe, wrap the shawl around and hold it close? did you see my life breaking, bring me pins for mending? …

stick in be safe , despite the pain and raddled cotton threads. to hold my life, hold the rusty hinges, prepare the coats of varnish again . remember your mother’s pins, my friend.

be well in your mending.

she asked what it is all about. just everyday things to look at, nothing to buy, like in a museum with strings and labels.

 

 

 

by sonja b. mesher


Photo credit: Author