Your grandmother showed you to knit. She learned from the mothers who fled the wars. You stopped and kept living until you got to where words were no longer enough. You found fabric again and made poetry.
You knit your beloveds into your world, an ever-expanding family. You knit the foreground with the background and layered the threads of one body among those of the next. Then the sky, the earth, a hand, a bench. You showed us all webbed together.
It’s one way, you said, to transcend human forms––or rather, our limitations in seeing what they might be. Here is a box of light, you say. And here is a space for the others.
I want to carry, you tell them––you with me.
***
Inspired by the work of of LJ Roberts.
Oh Stacey.
I, absolutely, love this.
It is so true.
Granny, this makes me smile. And it makes sense that this one would resonate with you, since you love and carry so many others in your fabric. xoxo
“You found fabric again and made poetry.” This is so beautiful!
Gamelihle, thank you so much.