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Friday, December 30, 2011


They can be cut.
They can be torn.
Lost and raveled,
ripped and worn.
So many strings,
so little strength.
Do they have colors?
A specific length?
Is life a web
of patterns and strings?
Stories and memories
of broken things.
The past is the past.
Or so they say.
Can I cut the strings?
Watch them fall away?
The strings I choose
to keep and mend
are the bonds of family
and the support of a friends.
But where's my string?
The bond of the heart?
Where does it stop?
Where does it start?
Is it the string of a kite
at the mercy of the wind?
A ball of yarn
that can weave and bend.
Ties are everywhere
but can I truly know
the ones I can tie
and the ones to let go?

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