Thursday, May 8, 2014
Conversations with lace maker
I step into my grandmother's small room and
How do I choose man to love ?
My grandmother's face is a clock
ticking slowly over tea cups & crochet of white circle patterns
She tells me:
Choose someone who will treat you
like a delicate lace
yet believes that you are more than just a good woman-
Someone who will
energize your orange-gold wings to scale the sky-
Or spin your feet to wheels to reach far corners of the earth-
Does his words make
you think of planting seeds & searching for lost ships ?
Or make you feel beautifully alive in dying light?
Did grandpa make you feel that way? I was curious.
He was my wing man & light of my life. I have lived a long life,
but I want to die already, she says.
Her rough & twisted fingers are knotting the patterns
webbing a silk of flowers between spaces & threads -
stitching fraying edges into womb of her belly-
I say, Grandma
Men like Grandpa are hard to find. It's like searching for a needle
among yarns, threads & silver pins in a box.
Her voice is firm above rustling of cloth:
I don't waste my time looking for the needle, but use the threads
& what I have to work my pattern & finally having used all
The needle falls into my hand to sew the last button
of my lace work.
I peer at the intricate lines on her face
- this woman who has survived WW2 & countless fires -
is a bedrock to her 4 sons & 2 step-children
And I want to be lace maker just like her.
Posted for Imaginary Garden for Real Toads - Bits of Inspiration - Lace
& D'verse Poets Pub - Conversation/Dialogue in Poetry - Hosted by Claudia ~ My grandmother died many years ago but she lived to 93 years. Thanks for the visit ~