Stitch

Stitch

Drawn from every quarter, on the rack, this life,
Slow and sure, He stretches, our sinew, thin and fine.
Til the point of tearing, ah, wounding of our pride,
A stitch, poor ego mended, nature by trial, refine.
~ D.F.

*************
“For He wounds, but He binds up; He strikes, but his hands give healing.”
~ Job 5:18

16 thoughts on “Stitch

  1. Pingback: Mirrored Poetic Form | Lexy's Litblog

  2. Love the texture in this photo, and the thought of refinement. Stretching may hurt a bit, but then comes healing.

    Like

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