As I weave the colored rows
I imagine each one as another layer
of what makes us so unique.

Every piece fits together,
not always perfectly,
but somehow.

Even the mistakes 
and misplaced colors,
the knotted sections,
have their own importance.

They weren’t intended to be there,
but without them
the bracelet wouldn’t exist.

And as soon as all the string 
has been braided by careful hands,
it can be tied off,
in order to hold all these stories
on my wrist.