With fingers calloused and bloody
Persistent and breath held
She has ripped out the embroidery
Emblazoning her shame.
Balled up and discarded
Soiled shreds of thread
Designed to forever
Wardrobe washed and mended
Donned in fledgling hope
She scans for telltale stitchery
Escaped from past’s expungement.
Step by quivering step
She dares to walk amongst
Those never soul-scarred
By hell’s needlework.
In moments and in days
Echoes solely silent
Hope’s tentative flapping wings
Crumple, stomped and heartbroken
At each revelation that invisible
Needlework once again scarlet flames.