Summer Guest Series: Kristi Dorf

Clothes that I have worn,

Tattered. Torn.

Ripped apart by others.

Their pride, pain, and traumas.

I try to stitch them back.

Each time, threads wither…

Unraveling, unveiling further

Parts of me—

Precious,

Naked,

Fragile,

Parts of me I desperately tried to cover up.

Yet the clothes cannot hide

The bruises inflicted upon me. 

As vivid as the clothes once were.

Ashamed of myself,

I can no longer stitch these pieces together.

Fabric worn thin,

Threads not strong enough.

However, I now realize

I can purchase my own fabric.

My own choices,

I clothe my soul.

My choice of colors, textures, and styles.

New freedoms, unfamiliar, and uncertain.

What if I choose wrong?

What if they don’t fit?

I feel the old, tattered, bondage strips circling my body.

The clothing is still there, balled up in a corner.

Ready for me to try and stitch back.

I look at the pile,

Sadness, grief, pity, anger 

I feel for them.

They tried to cover me up.

Tried many times,

Failure unbounded.

I look at that pile, all of the bindings.

I smile,

Thank them for covering me when they could.

I then walk into my closet to see what I want to wear today.