It’s supposed to stay with me always, I know,
From those beanie-capped Saturdays
In Ethel’s basement.
We’d begin with our promise.
I knew it then
I should know it, even now.
I suppose there were things in there about being honest,
Or maybe about being brave
But there is only one part that sticks with me,
The hardest promise to keep.
To remember to finish what I begin
It has grown to fit my shadow:
In one hand, my abandoned writing
In the other, a quilt project, still in the cloth square phase
Haunting, daunting, daring me to
Look straight into the eyes
Of my imperfection
To accept her
And call her enough.