WEAVE
.
I examined it so very closely
Through fine thick ancient loupes
And followed each separate thread
The cottons, wools, and jupes
As they wound their way in concert
Each bound to pre-set paths
I watched them as they rose and fell—
Patterned corrugated laths.
They bore unique colour splendid
Here white, there red and a navy blue
The sunlight bounced right off them
Riders giv’n every beam a hue.
.
Then I fell back a step or two
That I might not be remiss,
Envisioned the total masterpiece
A smile, a tear, a kiss,..
The red was from a woman’s purse
Clutched tightly to her breast—
Loves gift to her on taking leave
As war’s unwelcome guest.
A spot of blue, so navy deep
From the corner of my eye
I saw was torn from old blue jeans,
Clad the saddened son sitting by.
The white that piqued my every sense
Dazzling my mind anew
I saw on every villager
Crowding round the bier to view.
He was a part of each of them,
Their future, present, past;
He had helped raise every one
Their priest gone home at last.
.
As he lay quiet in coffin closed
Beneath the quilted flag
That they had made from what they had
Be it purse, or jeans, or rag,
The colors brilliant in the sun
Glistened boldly, wet with tears
Which prismed like a million stars
Branding memories for lifelong years.
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