By Bodhi Dunkel Wilker

Quietly, with reflection, I sew
Gold thread through a silver needle
Within my hands, I form a quilt

A patch for the girl who taught me all that mattered
Showed me how to befriend redwoods
Where to see rushing waters after the rain
To translate fables through understanding paints

One for the boy whom I needed more than I knew
The games, our language of love
Adventures, though small, never scarce
Our time, a lost letter in the wind

Another for the sister whose bruises healed and cuts scarred
Scratches bled across the wrists
Guilt I felt for words not said
Gratitude for the ones she did

A fourth for the brother whose conversations unwound our worlds
Rallies of words across the kitchen table
Graciousness for each restless thought
Mind and matter, all were of importance with him

Next for the friend who knew my everythings and nothings
Racked up phone bills to cry on bathroom floors
Vulnerability broke chains I did not know existed
Lines blended to form new kinds of love

Lastly for the heart who held me when wanted and pushed me when needed
Danced on double yellow lines
Tears stained pillows on fall nights
Chirping birds through single-pane glass

With knowledge and appreciation
I lay the quilt across my heart
And tuck my soul in to rest

Honorable Mention: Bodhi Dunkel Walker
Tamalpais High School