Visible Healing

In the waiting room, silence spreads thin,

yet all I can see are the stitches within.

A patient’s bare arm, a map of their plight,

fragility sewn in, hiding struggle from sight.

Like threads woven tightly, they hold what’s undone,

a story of healing, how life must be won.

We’re all pieced together with scars, some can show,

yet often we hide what the world doesn’t know.

The sharpness of needle and thread that connect,

reminders that pain can lead to reflect.

And here we sit stitched, both broken and healed,

an intersection of wounds, where all’s still revealed.