Every day is the same:
I work on holding myself together.
I wrap my body in found things:
elastic bands, string, a pleasing melody, Band-Aids, a well written line of text, the occasional staple.
These have built up over time,
to form a cocoon or a chrysalis,
that surrounds me.
Some days are better than others,
and I am able to go through the day without a care,
the cocoon around me able to withstand
the soft breeze of life,
and the ebbs and flow of my emotions.
everything that I am trying to hold in
finds its way out
and becomes an inferno that rises in me despite my care of the flame.
It bursts past the barriers of string and elastic bands,
scattering them to the wind.
It destroys something in me,
the chalice that holds the whole of me,
so that pieces of glass are littered like diamonds
in amongst the string and staples
and the occasional line of text.
I work at picking the pieces of myself
off of the floor,
adding more band aids, random pieces of string and elastic bands as I go.
I also pick up each piece of diamond glass,
no bigger than a grain of sand,
and look into their depths.
I see pieces of myself that make up the whole:
the sound of my laugher, my eyes that widen when I laugh, my thirst to live, to experience all that life has to offer me.
My light burns so brightly
and my body is capable of music.
This is a crescendo
and every moment is but a note that I can make.