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​

10/1/2018

Weaving By Neil Creighton

Picture
   wakingphotolife: Flickr CC



Weaving.

The loom is quiet.
Its treadles are still.
The shuttles, once filled 
with sombre weft spools
of darkly shining silk,
are almost spent.
Silently I add new shuttles,
splice a brighter palate
for an open French door,
light, zephyr-lifted curtains,
transparent, silver, morning light,
rich complexity of sun
sparkling on myriad green
and the sense of birdsong.
Yes, there must be birdsong.
There must be joy.

Yet let me unroll the cloth roller
and look at you for one last time
as you shuffle along
your darkened corridor.
It is well before dawn.
Those visions of children
which so haunt your sleep
have woken you again.
Your stoop is not just 
the weight of years
but a heavier load of guilt
bearing relentlessly down.
Over and over again
come those terrible words:
“Whatever will people think of me?”

Too late for that now.
I re-roll the cloth.
I have grieved long enough.
Through the open door is blue sky.
But I will weave through 
every scene that remains
those little bits of glowing silk thread 
that depict the light of your eyes
and the gentleness of your smile.
I must also take one thread 
of dark sombre silk,
your very special gift to me,
your sadly powerful reminder
of the tragedy and folly that can come 
when independence is surrendered,
when strength of body wanes
and the diminished spirit
grows vulnerable and weak.

I re-arrange the shuttles with spools
of shining blues and green
and splashes of gold and vermillion.
I put my foot to the treadle. 
With a clatter the parts move
and warp thread absorbs weft
and the tapestry moves on.
Let all your years of goodness
outweigh those final spools
of silent, secret surrender.
See, for as long as I weave
I will hold threads
from your eyes and your smile.

Now take your peace.
Dream no more.
Wring your hands no more.
Rest quietly.
Sleep easy.
I let you go.
Goodbye, dear one.
Goodbye.
Goodbye.
​

​
Neil Creighton is an Australian poet whose work as a teacher of English and Drama has made him intensely aware of how opportunity is unequally proportioned. His work reflects strong interest in social justice, indigenous issues, the environment, people and relationships. His poetry has appeared in many places, both online and in hard-copy. He is a Contributing Editor at Verse-Virtual.
ROGER ROBISON link
10/2/2018 05:03:05 pm

Hello Neal, I have a deep love of poetry and the story you weave between the lines is thought provoking. Surrender to the years surrender ambitions lost and now unattainable. For me surrender daily to God is my ideal especially the laying of all my plans at the foot of Jesus...after all I know only the past and experience the present. The future is in His hands and He knows what is best. Well done NNell, beautiful evocative imagery the true language of poetry.


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