Probably about half is missing–
large parts of what makes a person,
torn off, bloodied and ragged,
or atrophied – what would’ve otherwise
formed, but it was the survival years.
Everything is stitched up, the damage
contained in real time. It does not look nice,
but she was a toddler learning to sew
and forgetting how to play (she stitched
that loss up, too), grieving skills she didn’t want
in place of the childhood she did
(those seams are jagged, but they hold).
Healing is not undoing and redoing
the stitching with grown-up skill in hopes that
she will look better.
In fact, that would bleed her right out.
These stitches hold because they fucking had to.
Healing is gazing at this half-whole form exactly
as she is, this work of art I forged against my will,
discovering my pure devotion to her.
Healing is: I am biased, and every single stitch is
the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen a child
make.
My best work.
I’ve always done my very best.
melissa suarez
melissa 