I’m Sorry
“ I’m Sorry”, the common and often too
late saying expected to heal all pain and take back all sorrow given. But just
as strong as words are when they are given, they can also be weak.
The fabric symbolizes
a person’s soul, or spirit. I ripped it into pieces and then took common saying’s
and put them into literal terms. I “ripped it a new one”. “I burned it”. “I
walked all over it like a door mat”. “I ran it down into the ground”(with my
car). I used it to clean up messes I made. I stained it with my own color, my
own want for what I thought it should be. I “stabbed it in the back”.
Then, I
said “I’m sorry” but nothing changed. It was still in a mess of jagged pieces
in front of me. So I drowned some of it with tea, to try and comfort it, to
warm it up after the damage.
I tried cutting into it to release some of the
pain. I collected the pieces and tried to align them back to the way they were
before. I attempted to stitch it back together, to make it whole again.
But I
couldn’t, some of the pieces had gone missing, some were too destroyed to sew
back together. I beaded the wounds to make them tragically beautiful, to
romanticize them, just as the movies do with all pain.
To make them acceptable,
because everyone wants to be a beautiful disaster and not just a broken one.
I
told it, that it was beautiful and strong as I used thick threads to help hold
it together, because it could no longer hold itself. Then I placed it on the
bars that it never wanted to grasp onto.
A fragile frame, hollow and now exposed
through the holes and misplaced stitching. It was there ,on the bars, but it
wasn’t the same as before.
I said I was sorry, but sorry just wasn’t enough.
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