SOJOURN MAGAZINE - ISSUE 4 - Fall 1997
World Weaver
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Spin up the sheep's wool, bathe it in bark-broth and crushed berries. With chants and stories and sibilant whispers work the ancient wonders of criss-crossing needles, spindle and loom; fashion warm sweaters in tones of earth and stone and sky. Take summer paintings captured in thread and skein, into the darkening days of falling light; let memory traces of July balm rest in the seams, between the stitches; bury head in the sumptuous softness of a spring meadow til Spring comes again. Into the knitting-weaving-sewing, place intentions for your loved ones, of crisp fruitful days, firelit nights full of joyful scent and sound; deft touch surrounding them with hand-created warmth. Trace time to its beginnings, pushing needle through linen, marking current tribal patterns. Bring beauty and pride of ownership to the utile—for my young son I mark this for all to see—he is well-loved, he is protected from all comers by my fierce and nurturing mother-love. Here is my sign. Strong hand-pulled stitches hold us together when the world would unravel us. Memories of mothers bent over long ago knitting in our favorite shade helps hold our place. The prehistoric frozen man cradled in ancient ice fields wore beautifully made garments of leather, wool, linen. Who sat at home curing the skins, fitting all to size—his wife? His mother? Did they sit, piecing together other garments while they awaited his return? Time gone, women wait, with busy hands and open hearts for the arrival of the future with our love, patience, hope and compassion, we take our part in weaving the world.
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