We, A Master Weaver

How did it take a 

lockdown of all out bodies

to know we're not whole

when we are alone. 

We become whole together, 

threads pulled from ourselves

and woven as one. 

Some thread being more fussy

and stiff, hard to weave. 

And I'm no master

at weaving things by myself. 

Others, they know more. 

In a room with all, 

we could weave more threads as one. 

Leaving outliers

as strings left undone. 

Such is their own becoming

for undoing us. 

Author's Note

No idea how to actually write haiku, but the form gave me some good direction. Thinking about a lot of things during this lockdown.