Life as Thread and Tangle

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Life as Thread and Tangle

By Drakovi Bloodrose 


Spun silk, raw burlap — life, like a thread pulled,  

sharp needle through cloth, no smooth hands at the helm.  

It loops, knots, frays where the tug was too fierce,  

mending itself with each jagged pierce.  


Some days: stitch soft, feathers float gentle.  

Others: thorns twist, pinning the seams.  

Life’s a weave of the bright and the bruise,  

light lingers, while shadows refuse.  


Hope hangs like loose fringe, sometimes untrimmed,  

wisps tugged by wind, raw edge and the neat,  

a patchwork of moments not ironed to fit,  

stitched wild with scars, yet held together in grit.

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