Vit
il
I go.
I loved quilts until I became one.
With impunity, my immunity
Attacks. My. Melanin.
Patchworks my face
Neck, hands, and wrists.
(But I’ve always worn my heart on my sleeve.)
Six Sutures
David Anderson January 10, 2025
Quilted
- By Robin Bradley Hansel
- Jenna Le and M. Cynthia Cheung
- Poems
- 9 Comments
Robin Bradley Hansel has been a licensed physical therapist for more than thirty-four years. After moving to South Florida, she leveraged her love of writing, poetry, labyrinths and environmental conservation into the founding of Labyrinth Wellness and Green Treehouse Media. She specializes in collaborative ghostwriting and freelance copywriting/editing for individuals, small business owners, corporations and nonprofits of all types.
About the Poem
“While I was vacationing with family in July 2008, my brother noticed a white spot on my left wrist. We looked it up online, and I went straight to my dermatologist, who explained that vitiligo, an autoimmune condition, is painless but progressive. Sometimes people stare, and sometimes I’ll slowly spell the word out loud for them and suggest that they Google it. And sometimes not.”
Comments
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9 thoughts on “Quilted”
Beautiful. Embracing all of yourself and the pieces that are quilted together to create you.
Quilts are the patchwork fragments of our lives blended together for comfort. I hope you find some comfort in embracing that beauty.
Beautiful and raw, thanks for sharing a part of your story Robin✨
I love your poem, Robin! What a lovely, bold way to embrace your vitiligo and wear it with a whole, happy heart rather than letting it afflict you. I respect and honor you!
Beautifully written. I love the analogy of the quilt. We are all a collection of our experiences. You happen to wear yours outwards. Thank you for sharing!
Your poem educated me and reminded me of the beauty of each person. Thank you.
Thank you for teaching me through your poetic message. I hope your heart will forever be on your sleeve.
So many myths around vitiligo. When there should be no shame there is. Thank you for this poem.