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