I. I’ve been carrying this spool of thread around, making strategic loops around park benches and bluebird feet and tree trunks so that I will find my way back. I have doubled over the loop around the crayon box where I’ve set up residence, around the tall man with long arms, around the grey cat and curly-tailed dog, around this garden box and that bicycle wheel.
I am a navigator who holds the map upside-down, but I am not lost. I have tied the thread around my own waist.
II. I work in the world of people-perceived-as-damaged and find that, invariably, glorious are the cracks that let the light seep out. Glorious are the words you have to listen closely to discern, glorious are the ways we have to hold each other up.
III. I come from people with gentle hands who craft, cultivate, heal. My hands are slim and scarred, but gentle also. I drop things, though, and sometimes they break.
IV. I love your brokenness and mine too.