Wednesday, March 3, 2010

the weaving of a woman

she is built of strong cedars,
two pillars standing
supporting the clouds
from which threads
of Heaven run down,
spinning around her head
and torso,
down her legs,
to her warp weighted feet.

wefting across her body
is a trapestry of events,
birth, death,
love, stillness...
each a seam

hear the heddle
rakin from horizon to horizon,
closing them off.
beat her down
good and tight
watch her grow taller,
streching from
madder red earth to
woad blue sky,
spun strengh sewn into her being.
colors weaving a waltz through her flesh,
perfecting the pattern,
that balance between beauty
and practically,
the ever present need
the desirous want,
meticously striving
to become the line
that converges the two
into captivating lovliness...

for all gaze amaze
at the weaving of a woman.

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