Unravel.
{Photo via Tumblr}
I’m unraveling,
thread by thread,
Like my beloved old sweater
that has accompanied
me for a decade.
I remember the time
I hung you
from a willow branch
while on a long hike
through the forest.
The sun shone warm
on my shoulders,
And I needed to remove
a layer to take respite
from the midday heat.
It was like stripping off
a cloak of my former self.
Sanding away a coat of paint
from an antique
chest of drawers.
What starts as a
minuscule snag,
torn at the seam,
gradually grows
into an abysmal hole.
Every fiber of my being
is falling apart.
It’s not a defect
in the quality or craftsmanship,
sometimes things just
disintegrate with
age and time.
Occasionally garments
are constructed with
tiny invisible flaws,
unseen at the moment
of purchase.
But I can’t blame the tailor
because I fall in love
with the imperfections.
They don’t affect the way
I love my attire
any less.
I wear it with devotion.
I adore the way it smells,
how it feels against
my bare skin,
the warmth and memories
made while it is wrapped
around me.
I remember the time
I dropped you into the lake.
You sunk to the bottom
like a heavy stone.
I retrieved you
from the water
with a smooth,
bleached piece
of driftwood.
You were wrung out
and I laid you flat to dry.
but the mud from that day
forever changed your color.
Inevitably, there will come a time
when you can no longer be mended.
All the facets of a blue moon
woven into your fabric
will begin to unravel.
Darning is no longer an option
and it’s time to say
goodbye.
Hearts are much like
favorite sweaters
Once the seam of love splits
and the stitching falls out
The perforation
in the fragile heart
breaks wide open.
No pacemaker
can undo the damage
of the passionate
cardiac center
off
rhythm.
Just as washing and wear
softens the wool
and tests colorfastness,
time softens the heart
and tests its durability.
One day a new cardigan
will catch my eye.
I’ll try it on for size
and it will feel cozy draped
around my silhouette,
although it will never replace
my old sweater,
because it is an entirely
different article of clothing.
It will become my go-to.
Like every hand-knit pullover
is one of a kind
each love is also unique.
My old sweater
will always hold
a special place in my heart,
but my new sweater
will fit like a glove.
An instant bond.
Unconditional love.
True love.
Honest love.
Authentic love.
Healing love.
Snags and life circumstances
may rip me apart,
but never change the quality
of my threads.
Each patch, stitch, stain, and trip
to the seamstress for mending
makes me stronger,
creating the patchwork
of my character.
Enabling me to stand
the test of time
precisely like my
battered and bruised heart.
It keeps on beating.
Keeping me alive.
It’s not that I
will altogether forget,
I’ll just allow myself
to give in a little.
To let go.
Surrender sweetly.
I’ll grant my heart
permission to become
soft and delicate
once again.
Wear my heart on my sleeve,
like donning a brand
new sweater.
*****
Amber Mitchell is a massage therapist, Yoga teacher, writer, and creator extraordinaire. Feeling most authentic and at home among nature, she finds peace and clarity atop mountains and insight and inspiration seaside. As a naturally curious and inquisitive Scorpio, she is constantly questioning all that is. She fiercely believes in being true and brave and wants to empower others to show off their creative originality through Yoga, imagination, and a dash of perspiration. You can find her with her head in the clouds, fire in her heart, and bare feet on the ground dreaming up her next big idea, and on Facebook.
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