Birth of mosaic
When you pulled me from the hearth, limb
by limb, I was still crackling with the fire
that melded my bones from bare elements,
too young to wonder what stars perished
for you to be born & claim the skies, your
lungs stretched taut from volume of the universe
& skin somehow unscathed by the heat of
my body coming to life. Like laundry strung
on a quiet line, you left me to dry by the fireplace
& never returned to see the scorch marks
I left on your floor, teaching me to stand even
when I was broken in my own unformed hands.
I sewed my pinky next to my ring finger with
the silvery thread you hid in the workshop,
wanting me to bleed searching for the sheer
possibility to be whole, & every second, I was
quiet, even as the needlepoint pierced my skin.
But for the rest of my life, I would wonder
if I ever walked with the entirety of myself
or if there were still some shards of me
scattered in the drawers of your dusty desk,
some shards of me running amok in the flames
that created me in your image, some shards
of me with which I will never make acquaintance:
maybe it is better this way.
Noreen Ocampo (she/her) is a Filipina American writer double-majoring in English and Film Studies at Emory University. She is also currently a book reviewer for COUNTERCLOCK, a very amateur singer-songwriter, and an Animal Crossing enthusiast. In the future, Noreen aims to fulfill a role in the intersection between storytelling and education.