tiny piece of lint
was my imprint at birth.
She named me
the most insignificant piece
of it... the lint in the corner of your pocket.

held close, near the warmth of the thigh.
secure, protected.
little piece of lint.

the challenge with it
is that I have always felt it.
insignificant.
humility has been my blanket.
it has protected me from the
fingers reaching in to grab hold
of coins and other pocket stuff.
that dark corner down there,
where the blue piece of lint rests.
wash after wash, the water only
beats it.
forms a perfect ball. the sides never
stop. the cycles maintain.

the challenge is I still feel this.
insignificant.
I always will.
I see what I am a part of.
I feel the magic of it.
that background buzz, humming...
yes..... I hear it.
my perspective just one tiny
bit of it. little pocket lint.

significance rests there.
in each piece of it.
the wind only exists
because of the other tiny bits.
this is the delicate bliss.
the kiss.
this awareness.
feeding from its passion to be
because it is.
it is repetitive in nature, though
what I see is. It just is.
and it creates. it extends.

I expand into your hand
and you free me.
you release me from the dark corners
and set me free. to be la nita.
to grow by attracting energy.
with the right charge, a lint ball
can exchange electricity!

my tears burn some nights,
they purge the energy of the day.
though I was built this way,
molded and shaped for it.
flexibility to change is key,
until that day. and in between
I've now seen,
my responsibility is to just be me, my imprint.