Like a rug, that's frayed, and seen better days?
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| From Crazy as a Loom |
If only. We could take all those imperfections, broken threads, smudges that just won't come out. We could throw the whole thing right in the wash. Then take it apart, bit by bit. Put new warp on the loom, and reweave it all into a brand new rug.
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| From Crazy as a Loom |
We could undo those years of wear, turn it all around, and start over almost new?
Perfect threads. Brightest colors.
Wouldn't it be loverly?
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| From Crazy as a Loom |
Forgiveness
You laugh, head tipped back
For a second, I remember you
from a long time ago
So familiar, yet so changed
We make small talk
Onlookers think
Isn't that nice
There is a serious
Droning
In my head.
I feel my jaw clench
And then again.
You lean forward
Interested
I must be talking
But somehow
Even though I know
I have forgiven you
Long ago,
I am poised,
Ready to flee
To protect
Myself
From you.
To forgive
Does not mean
To ever forget.
How could it?
9 comments:
Deep thoughts tonight, Ms. Hilary! And, yes, I sometimes wish I could "reweave" my life.
I am a happy person at this point in my life, but oh yes... there are things I would reweave had I the opportunity.
Di
The Blue Ridge Gal
No. It's something I've thought about, but no I wouldn't. My mistakes were my first two husbands and I couldn't bear life without my children, just as they are and who they are. I might have had other children with another husband, but these are the ones that I cherish and delight in.
Oh to unweave my life, yes sometimes I wish I could mend and fix all the heartaches of life, but how would we grow. Yes wouldnt it be loverly (Audrey Hepburn) I loved her.
Love,Debbie
Wow. I love that poem. The jaw, the stepping outside of yourself - I must be talking - the ready to flee stance. I can feel all of it.
As for the loom - weave me anew!
Hi Heather, I really like your weaving and your lovely furry friends. And your poems.
The wood on the floor of your studio looks so like the wood in our 1930s art deco house in Adelaide, South Australia. We have been told it is Huon Pine from Tasmania. Do you know what wood your floor is?
By the way, I came to your blog via a friend in Ireland's blog. She has us both linked to her site.
Regards, Mary Lou Tucker
The floor is pitch pine, grown right here in the northeast, 200+ years ago.
thanks for the kind words....not sure I'm a poet, but I did feel moved to write it, and I guess that is what counts.
Wonderful photo's and enjoyed the prose very much. Heart felt and honest and true. I loved it.
Yes, it would be nice to fix things up some so I hear you on that. And that poem is good. Did you write it?
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