The Pin and the Pin Cushion
I want to be your pin cushion.
Naturally, not just any old pin cushion
Not some old cloth tomato
For your pin pushin
A sanctuary, a respite from the fight
An ear, a punching bag
A reassuring night light
Shelter that protects you from the heat
I’m the ground beneath your feet.
I want to be your pin.
Not a sharp prick that drains your blood
Not a dull stick in the proverbial mud
A guide for your spool of creative thread
to weave the quilt that’s in your head
Sometimes, as we lose our way
We need the sharp sensation
of the cold steel pin
to remind us of love and light.
And sometimes sin.
