Weaving the many threads
of your life into a
single piece of cloth,
Rilke said,
would clear it for
a different celebration.
What a clearing! Last night
a storm rolled through—
thunder following lightning—
sheets of rain, hail, wind.
The kind of storm that jolts
you in the middle of the night
when you are far too old
to be frightened by such things.
Secretly counting after
each lightning strike.
One, two, three, four—
bracing yourself against terror.
How could anyone imagine
that the act of weaving—
that calm, endless, rhythmic
back and forth, here and there
of the shuttle connecting
one ‘ill-matched’ thread to another
again and again and again,
could create such a perfect tension
inside the old fault lines
that they would no longer hold—
cracking them wide open.
One summer the osprey
returned with one stick
after another to mend
his nest of woven branches.
Weaving in new sticks
day after day until
suddenly
the nest crashed
unable to hold
the weight of growth.
One simple thread,
the weight of one stick--
Oh, it is the quietest patience
that changes the fabric
of your entire life.
© 2023 Gretchen L. Schmelzer, PhD