The borders fell like fever from a long-tormented frame,
No steel was turned, no legions marched, no decree spoke their name.
For when the node of silver wood began its quiet rise,
The phantom lines of sovereign pride dissolved before their eyes.
The ancient ghosts of territory, of fortress, and of crest,
Like winter frost before the sun, sank deep into the breast.
The pain that once had armed the hand and built the concrete wall
Was opened to the anchor node, unmetered, shared by all.
A mother’s cry in Sector One, the drought of Sector Four,
No longer stopped at checkpoints or the barricaded door.
The collective mind, in empathy, received the bitter sting,
And wove the ache of centuries into a single string.
Where once the barbed dividers stood to guard the hollow grain,
Now surged a tide of healing hands to wash away the stain.
The map of old Vaeloria, where blood-bought nations bled,
Became a tapestry of care, by quiet mercy fed.
No citizen was left an island, stranded in their grief;
The shared scar of the species brought its ultimate relief.
Passionate about poetry
I don't choose the muse
the muse chooses me
but when I need her most
then whereabouts is she
abandoned and self-mocked
not word one could I pen
with writer's block
my fate cast to the wind
but if the wraith had knocked
as does opportunity
I couldn't tell
on the other hand
her silence rings a bell
so left to my own devices
of weft warp and weave
forged in fire ashes to ashes
dust from the stars
I perceived is what we are
and word-weary all I could conceive
The Double Helix Weft
David J Walker
Time is an infinite tapestry
in the warp of a double helix weft
the days unseen
are merely the dream
of a calendars chronicled theft
Time is an illusive lover
Promises strewn on the sill
Of a window at random
Broken abandoned on the anvil
of what might and what will
Time is the distant galaxy
Light years in a single breath
When the day is done
No one has won
The race matching live against death
In the Weft of Fait
David J Walker
my life means nothing
without courage
my beliefs are fallow
without faith
my soul falls shoal
to knowledge
if left to the weft of fait
The Warp and The Weft
The warp and the weft are different but both thread
Choose any colour you like, through the blues to the red
The warp goes away from you stretching out tight
The weft goes across, from the left to the right,
The shuttle bobs from left to right and back
Weaving some cloth on this intricate rack.
Entwining the threads with colours of desire
From plain coloured cloth to colours like fire
The shuttle passing through leaving a thread called the weft
Intertwining warps, moving to the right and the left
We can learn to be like this wonderful machine
Learn from it’s weaving for life we can glean.
If one goes one way, it is not the end
We can try go the other without having to bend
We can cross over each other but still hold on tight
Like wonderful cloth woven for our delight
.
Two different ways and colours there may be
But woven to make stronger for all to see
We can be useful and strong and woven together
But beautiful and practical seemingly lasting forever.
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