Where It Knitted

Broke my arm at eleven in a way I won't describe,

and the doctor showed me pictures of the place it knitted tight,

said the bone comes back thicker where the fracture used to be,

said the body over-builds it, said that's standard, said that's free.

And I thought about that image for about another decade,

'cause it isn't a metaphor, it's a physical arrangement —

you don't come back the same, you come back reinforced,

and it hurts like hell in the meantime, and there's no shortcut in the course.

Where it knitted. (where it knitted)

That's the strongest part of me.

Where it knitted. (where it knitted)

Not the same, and not restored —

built back heavier on purpose.

The body knows the way.

Where it knitted. (where it knitted)

Now I'm careful with this line 'cause it gets abused a lot —

"what don't kill you makes you stronger," sold by people it did not.

Plenty of it just breaks people. That's the truth and I won't soften it.

Some of it's pure loss, and the loss is not a lesson, and it's not a gift.

But the parts that did knit, knit. That's allowed to be true too.

I can hold the grief and hold the muscle in one hand, they both fit,

and the ones who came through with me, they know the exact same thing —

we're not proud of the fracture. We're proud of the repair.

Where it knitted. (where it knitted)

Took the years it took.

Where it knitted. (where it knitted)

Nobody watched it happening —

that's the part nobody photographs.

The body knows the way.

Where it knitted. (where it knitted)

And I'd give it back. Let's be honest — I'd give it back.

But I can't, so I'm using it,

and using it is not the same as being glad,

and I've stopped apologising for the difference.

Where it knitted. (where it knitted)

That's the strongest part of me —

and it aches when it's cold,

and both of those are true,

and I carry them together,

and I'm not choosing between them anymore.

Where it knitted. (where it knitted)