An Armor, Kin and Home
Alana Norie, April 2026
In my hands I held
Cotton from the land
A patch from the resilient
And scraps from my friends
Both named and unknown
I carried these materials to sew a vest
The vest is not simply decor for my shoulders
Or a flimsy, yet laboured garment
This vest is my armorIt holds me gently as my very existence is a resistance
To the hostile bathrooms, passerby stares, living room couch
It’s softness protects me
With power and tenderness, when the world is tumultuous
I think we could all use a little softness right now
A genuine embrace of warmth
This vest is my kin
As I, my knowledge, my heart is a quilt of my kin too
Everything I have come to know, to feel
Has been stitched by the generosity of those around me
As I wrap my abdomen in this quilt of my kin
From chosen family to the ripest berries
I am reminded that I am never really out-of-place
How can I be out-of-place when my very existence
has been crafted by an array of beings who speak out loud “you belong”?
This vest is my home
It’s warm, full of abundance, and crafted by
Intergenerational stories
When I am unsettled by the normative notions of home
That demand stability and consistency
And are hard to find and harder to trust
I am reminded by this vest that
Home exists,
Belonging exists,
Right with-in me
And us all
With its many layers, co-creators and imperfections
This vest says softly to me and you
“You are never out-of-place, you can’t be,
belonging lives in us all, no matter where our feet land”