Confessions of a String

My favorite of all my poetry

What am I

But a single gray thread

In a tapestry of millions?

Always told I am unique,

Though there are others like me

What great role have I

That I am so needed in this valance?

Surely there is something

Or else why did the seamstress choose to stitch me in?

 

The tapestry is always admired as a whole

Who takes time to notice a single thread?

Certainly I am not intense, like the blacks

Bright and pure, like the whites

Nor have I the beauty of the golds

I am my own medley of the traits I choose

Yet who notices?

I am next to nothing

For if I unravelled

It would be of no great concern

Even if I left a hole

Another would be stitched in to fill my place

I know none of us is the ultimate necessity

But I still feel less essential than the others

Like I have less impact

Sheerly because I am what I am

 

Maybe someday my part will be shown to me

This horrible feeling of not being needed will vanish

Someone will stop

To see the simple purpose and beauty

Of one gray thread

Then will I be fulfilled

Reviews

[R. Ellison]

Still one of my favorites. :)

[LadyRouge]

Angel's Lady is right. Even gray is significant enough to be in the crayon box. I love your poetry. I've only read two so far, but your style really catches my eye. Each word falls in my mouth like a pin drop. I have written many a poem like this one, but the analogy you chose here really makes all the difference. Great poem!

[Angel's Lady]

I think if we were all supposed to be the same, then Crayola would only make one color.

Most thought-provoking indeed. Great write!

[Kaela Craven]

Fantastic!

[Mysty Rayn]

I love this write. What a great read. Very powerful.