[Thespiritexpress] Poem read on Tuesday

[Riantee Rand]

The Fabric of the World

 

Like a cat

I sink my claws every morning

into the fabric of the world

to reel in the day.

A prey, soft, alive, fluttering,

skin tearing.

I feed on what is to come.

 

The edges unravel in the wind,

and I am left hanging

attempting to grab the solid weave

where the fabric hasn’t frayed. . .

always a little behind.

 

Each day I do regain

the ground I have lost,

each day

with a little less strength.

 

If I connected with the area

where the fabric is still strong

I might take part in the mending,

I would find a reason to be.

So I hold things together a little longer,

even as the pretty threads I cherish

come undone all around me.

 

Thus I weave the death

of what has been

and the birth

that is taking form.

 

Then I let go and breathe

the weaving that is me.
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