Piecemeal,

we stitch together

the cover we need in dark times –

lover’s warm embrace,

a child who needs feeding,

a bit of work that reminds us

of fires, and music, and the river flowing.

 

Some years,

the wind blows through.

The rains seep into the cloth.

We are drenched in the sweat

of pain, of rage, and the fever dreams.

The simple cover feels too thin,

ends frayed, stitches fallen.

No warmth or light

surrounds us.

 

Mind these moments of despair.

Make plans. Be bold. Believe.

Find what you need,

who you need.

Build it

now.