Stitch

“Thread of Her Own”

She’s been torn in places no one notices.
Frayed at the edges, soft where life pulled too hard.
But she never asked to be patched by someone else.

She sits quietly, sewing herself back together,
threading the needle with hands that have done this before.
Each pull is slow.
Each stitch, uneven.
But each one is hers.

The thread runs from the wound
to the needle,
to the single earring she wears,
a small ball of yarn, bright and familiar.
As if the answer was always within reach.

Some see damage.
She sees a map of where she's bee

n.

Healing doesn’t come from being whole.
It comes from knowing you can hold yourself together,
even when no one else knows how.