Baluchi hand-knotted rug, late 19th century
You in the shadow of your room A young woman, not yet in your prime Following the ways of your mother Pulling strands of deepest indigo blue And richest madder reds Across the woolen warp of the loom. Knotting nimbly as you go, Mind relaxed, absorbed, immersed Transported hour after hour Day after day, month by month A youth protected and well spent In the deepest reaches of ancestral time. When it’s done You will have woven a masterpiece Something you will quietly glow with Something that will long outlast you Your children, grandchildren, great Grandchildren and culture. You will have created a portal Reaching across time And space, across cultures To suck in and absorb The world weary To another world. In this other world Children laugh and play as children do But also learn the ways of deepest time And spend their days apprenticing In the ways of subtle earthy magic The ways of warp and weft, knot and dye. A world beyond time In a space where lovers meet Babies sleep And the old die in peace Held together on the sturdy loom Of traditions, bound by hardship and love. (9/18/26)
Poetrysoup is an environment of encouragement and growth so only provide specific positive comments that indicate what you appreciate about the poem. Negative comments will result your account being banned.
Be the first to comment on this poem. Encourage this poet.
