I am collecting pieces of myself
Scattered over years, miles, and memories.
Shards of self abandoned and forgotten
In the name of growing up.
I am collecting pieces of myself.
Patching together the things once beloved and left to rust
On the shelf of my youth.
I am collecting pieces of myself;
Calling home parts of my soul
Left by the wayside as I travelled
To middle class normativity.
I am collecting pieces of myself.
Remaking the mosaic of me,
Gluing each piece where it belongs once again.
I am a woman of shattered glass.
A jigsaw puzzle of sights, sounds, tastes, and loves.
I am collecting pieces of myself.
Stitching together the patchwork tapestry
Of my life.
***
Tracy Linder considers herself the proverbial “Jack of all trades, Master of none.” At any one time she is a teacher, counselor, wordsmith, classical pianist, vocal soloist (usually in the shower), avid baker, amateur fan of history, film, theater, and every so often finds time to sit quietly with an embroidery hoop. She currently works from home.
