Stitches
Swaddling babe on a cold winter
night
Lay on a front porch, under a light.
No body’d wanted me. Nobody’d cared.
One thing protected me: a quilt
someone shared.
Pieces of cotton though very low
cost,
Kept me from dying right there in
the frost.
The inside was warm, as soft as a
dove,
But outside was strong, with a
backing of love.
From “Stitch-In-The-Ditch” to
“Freemotion” style,
Types of stitching go on mile after
mile.
The waft of fried chicken and Georgia
peach tarts,
The age of this quilt showed the
age of their hearts.
A rainbow surrounds me, so vivid
and true,
From fluorescent orange to robins
egg blue.
Tea cakes and coffee, a crackling
white fire,
A dwindling art form they would not
retire.
Purposeful stitching. Each one had shared.
Lives will be changed because my
life was spared.
I wrote this poem to describe the need for help. So many people are begging for love, the underclass, the working class, even the upperclass citizens. When we truly sew into people's lives, It lasts. Their life can be renewed, along with yours. Both hearts will be warmed. This will ultimately result in a domino effect that can potentially shed light and love to other people who are hurting and longing for love and peace.
