She sits down and
Carefully picks up her work at hand.
The bright light illuminates the room.
(facilitating her meticulous work)
The organ she is currently working on
Is a particularly tough one.
She reaches into her private collection
She ponders the ethics behind patching hearts –
With her own.
Her own heart, shredded years ago,
Found no other use
But to be used as patches for select others.
Once an amplifier,
Now a redundant organ…
This way she recreates its function
And puts it to use once more.
She looks down again
She carefully selects a near match.
Raising her work to the light,
She painstakingly threads her needle
And begins the healing/mending process.
The outcome is a patched, yet whole, heart –
For someone else.
Why begrudge someone something if it is lacking intrinsically within? Why begrudge someone your help, just because you can’t help yourself? Why begrudge someone something when you’ve got what it takes to mend it, and that something of yours is obsolete and redundant to you? (just because it is torn beyond recognition)