Zebra Seeking Spoons

Some days
I imagine my body
held together with medical tape—
the kind that curls at the edges
after carrying too much
for too long.

Other days,
it feels like glue,
desperately trying to bond
what pain keeps pulling apart.

A few places are stitched,
not with thread a surgeon could see,
but with quiet promises:

Just make it through this hour.

Just make it to tomorrow.

Just don’t give up.

There are mornings
I swear I can hear the staples
holding my spirit together,
their sharp edges digging in
just enough to keep
everything from spilling out.

I laugh to myself sometimes,

because if anyone could see
the blueprint of my body,
they might wonder how I am still standing.

Tape over joints.

Glue over grief.

Stitches across disappointment.

Staples through exhaustion.

A patchwork of repairs
that were never meant to last,
yet somehow
carry me another day.

But the truth is,

those aren’t the strongest things
holding me together.

Hope
is woven through every seam.

Resilience
is the thread that refuses to snap,
even after being stretched
a thousand times too far.

Determination
is the knot tied at the end of every stitch,
whispering,

“Not today.”

Self-compassion
is the gentle hand
that replaces worn tape
instead of criticizing it.

Love—
from those who stay,
from those who understand,
from those who simply believe me—
is the glue
that never quite loses its hold.

And courage…

Courage is the invisible cast
wrapped around a heart
that has cracked more times
than anyone will ever know.

Living with chronic illness
means becoming an artist
of impossible repairs.

Learning to rebuild yourself
with materials no one else can see.

Fashioning strength
from sleepless nights.

Making armor
out of vulnerability.

Turning survival
into an everyday craft.

So if today
I look a little weathered,

know that I am held together

by tape and tenderness,

by glue and grace,

by stitches and stubbornness,

by staples and small victories,

by resilience that refuses to surrender,

and by hope—

that quiet, relentless hope—

which has become the strongest thing

keeping every scattered piece of me

beautifully,

bravely,

together.