Tuesday, September 28, 2010

Your Web

Blogroll Me!A Poem I wrote about the giant basket in Licking County where I grew up.


Grandmother Weaver
what can you offer me
on your lacework
of emptiness? A job in a factory
...that devalues the
talent, ability, and integrity
of YOUR teaching? I have the quilt of
my grandmothers
They gathered...sewing
singing and weaving. I hear the echos
of their lost voices.
They are alive again...through me
I weave and spin....stories about them, and their lost looms.
I can turn straw into gold...
without selling my grandmothers land and soul.
I can weave metal strand over strand
trance like they did....their work through my hands.
Let The Giant's basket be a shrine....
to Brigid...his grandmother, and mine
Let us honor her.
She who spins backwards and forwards in time

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