THE CLOTHES WE WEAR

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THE CLOTHES WE WEAR

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Constrained
Within the cut
Of a brand new
Small-shouldered coat
The arms flail awkardly
Bare to the air
While wondering how 
To hide

Epaulettes
And brass buttons
Tell a story
That is not mine
Starchy
Scratching the skin
This coat is trying
Too hard

There have been 
Many such habits
Cast off and re-assumed
In the illusion
That the mould 
Is the measure
Of good

But the coat I wear now
Is growing on me
It doesn’t look like much 
But this coat has lived

Woven through history 
With linen and flax 
Skeins from the silk road
And the cotton field 
A patch from a ship’s sail
And a touch 
Of cosmic dust

The ache of suffering 
Runs through 
Flawed twine 
Spun with care
Into delicate cloth
Slipped over the shoulders 
Old scars are covered
Fresh wounds soothed
By its warmth 

This coat accommodates  
The curves and wrinkles
Of age
It has capacious pockets
For treasured memories  
And spacious room
For change
In its forgiving form
As truth unfolds