Restless

a mother

restless

in the moments before dawn

wanders

through the half open doors

of experiences

and imaginings

thumbs through

the blurred fragments

of fabric

the faded apparitions

of what was,

might have been

or might yet be

randomly

selecting swatches for her quilt,

now uneven

in texture, shape and color,

and sewing,

ceaselessly sewing,

a singular coherence

stitching her soul

to humanity

 

07 Dec./03 - GR

 

Done