the distance is only
a stretch I’ve made
the elastic was pulled so tight
it snapped
I’m racing back to tie every cord
and blend the lines, try and mend
what if i have ruined it
a tattered piece of something
that was once great
but now just a scrap
how dare I believe
I can tear a gaping hole between
A wholer piece, a better thing
being ashamed of the colors and strings
that are the very expression of what it all means
I can’t pretend I did not break it
not loving each stitch and frayed end
and pattern because it’s not the latest fashion
But when you tear yourself apart
you learn there is no ruined art
just a pile of new pieces
a brand new start
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem