
A poem for threadbare hearts
September 20, 2018it goes way back
this tight wound thread
constricting the heart
and tangling the head
spooled round every nerve,
and bone
winds round each touch
that’s ever been known
binds up body and soul
shapes how they’ve grown
each memory that’s joined
by puncturing stitch
with the merest tug
no wonder we twitch
the urge to cut
to slice through flesh
attempt to sever
ties that enmesh
or to take a point
that’s sharp and prick
and pierce the layers
with needle stick
but neither skin deep
nor in muscle is found
the end of the thread
to be unwound
so so far back
in the kernel of soul
lies the start and the end
that connects to the whole
yet also there – within –
an ancient spool
waiting long
since cosmos was cool
with unmade waters
and destiny dark
and sun and spirit
were barely a spark
the shape of one
on which would wind
all the threads
of humankind
the spindle of God
centripetal core
all ends all threads
love’s gravity draws
we fray and twist
twine and knot
caught within
our own damn plot
we try a little love
to weave
but warp threads break
and warped hearts leave
and neither better
is the weft
where truth is thrust
when trust has left
Yet we are worked by spinner God
whose fingers tiny swift and deft –
gently hold and wind and reel
and gracious yet our fibres feel.
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