Poetry In Motion
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This poem is dedicated to my mother, Winifred Christine Stainbrook-Etgen
She was a quilter, extraordinair, who wowed me with her
creativity and tenacity. She created the most beautiful fabric landscapes.
She sits still, yet she travels. How?
Her mind travels when she stitches,
But not the way that others do when traversing the world.
Surely her traveling counts, too, as motion.
Motion in being here yet far away at the same time, traveling beyond time and space—lost in the silence of her mind.
Motion in the fabric landscape she envisions and creates.
Motion in her steady breathing.
Motion in the posture of her sewing, her head bent for the task.
Motion in her commitment and persistence.
Motion in the rhythm and patience of her stitches.
Motion in the way one hand leads while the other one helps.
Motion in the pressure she gently exerts on the foot pedal.
Motion in the cadence, the hand-eye coordination between her hands and her foot.
Watching her quilt was poetry in motion.
When finished, motion became a breathtaking work of art, a quilt imbued with e-motions and given gladly from her heart.
Copyright © Sara Etgen-Baker | Year Posted 2023
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