2 notes &

Single Thread

"When I was a weaver, I chose 

a red silk thread to get me to the heart 
of my creation and then back out, 
across the loom, to whatever life was waiting.

And when you found the little red pathway, 
buried between warp and woof, you were sure 
you’d found a flaw. Please remember what happens

when there’s no exit. Years of breathing 
wool dust, reeking of lanolin, staring into coils 
of green yarn and blue—you go dumb.

You’ve heard the story a thousand times—
that trapped fox, whining and snuffling 
then biting her paw 
through the bone, and running off into the night.

The mind wants this: a door in the wall, 
         an open field, a narrow path 
         through the woods, an open field”


(thank you, @riskywiver)

Filed under Helen Wickes Single Thread poetry 120706

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