Material musings

A skein of wool can't be unravelled,
Unspun as it is
with its absence of tension.
But it can be smoothed and gathered
and pulled apart, tufty
Like we imagine a cloud might feel
If those dense mists
were (up close) as they
appear from below.
A skein of wool is in-between,
No longer the dress of a sheep
But not yet spun with time -
Pulled taught and ravelled by the wheel
Of a woman's turning -
Life strung
Rhythm and breath.
The length of the string
Is measured by how long
it took to sit and spin.

My work, my loves, is not to
Knit
But to ready the wool for weaving.
Never fit
The garment to the world
But weave it in your dreams
Where the thread can be traced
From point to peak
Back through time and forward
Until
The pattern is timeless
The vision complete.



Poetry by Maija Liepins
Read 786 times
Written on 2017-01-16 at 22:34

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Jamsbo Rockda The PoetBay support member heart!
Beautiful. You have a knack for staying in the metaphor and rolling it into great meaning.
2017-01-22


one trick pony The PoetBay support member heart!
I like the idea of

'My work, my loves, is not to
Knit
But to ready the wool for weaving.'

and I like the texture of this poem. I'm familiar with wool, before and after it's spun, this feels real to me. A good musing.
2017-01-17