Motherhood Weaving
A mere conjugation of man plus woman,
motherhood picks up the shuttle, widens the belly
until a a tapestry emerges complete.
The act of procreation
lifts up the threads on a loom,
passes the weft through the warp.
As shedding rises up the warp yarns,
emotions stretch, the reed battens against the cloth.
The release of finished goods onto a beam
takes nine months to complete.
Motherhood doesn’t control of the process.
The loom weaves a pattern and design
DNA gives her to follow, she doesn’t create it.
Motherhood hasn’t changed from pioneer days,
it produces a textile.
The mother lacks control over what she makes.
Whether she weaves a blouse, potholder or rug,
what comes out she takes home from the hospital.
It’s her job to feed, clothe and wash the baby.
A woman uses the cloth gently,
protects it from breakage,
and delights in the intricacy of image and line
waiting to be revealed in the weaving.
Pummeled
a storm
overtakes
Afghanistan
families
who backed the wrong side
mob the airport
on Kabul broadcasts
shouts and pleas for help
papers waved
some men
break through a fence
push onto the airstrip
they sprint
chase a plane
down the runway
hands of flesh
clasp the shell
of a jet
one refugee
clings to metal wings
to save him
the plane lifts
but the man
is no bird
in my garden
yellow and red raindrops
press out daylight
https://www.verse-virtual.org/2021/November/bruck-ingrid-2021-november.html
Date Published: November 1, 2021