Wearing my candy-striped pj’s,
I contemplate the in’s and out’s of living -
The tapestry that is weaved as
We all dance through each other’s lives.

There is my mother, chaotic threads
Of colors dark and umber
That cannot bring relief or hope,
Despite the fabric’s intention to cover.

Over here, my children’s father,
Weak little threads that prematurely fade with time
Not attached to other threads,
Always threatening to fall right out or be plucked.

Ahhhh, my grandmother’s perfection -
Neat and tidy patches that make sense
Oh, but the texture of prickly and not fun
To lay against my skin.

There is the strange essence of my fathers’ presences
But I cannot seem to find the
Actual evidence that those strings ever existed
Other than the scars on my psyche.

My auntie’s thick, soft, strong strands
Woven throughout the entire work;
The core colors and mesh that hold
My entire life together.

My sister’s whimsical, wiry filaments,
Sarcastic little sharpies
That accent my world entirely -
Alternating tickles of joy and maddening bitter.

Oh, and there are my children,
Variegated tendrils of all shapes, sizes and colors,
Memories of times gone by and futures yet unfolded,
The center of it all a mish-mash of emotion.

And throughout, the occasional shreds
Of relationships on the fringe, fibers of lives that almost blend
But not quite,
Affiliations that just didn’t work themselves into it all, yet remain.

And last, the vibrating cords of my sweet love, Jeremiah,
Harmonizing everything, somehow, with interesting
Twists of imperfect shades that compliment
The whole.

08/18/2007

Author's Note: I wonder what I look like in theirs...

Posted on 08/18/2007
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