weave a way . . .

i’m too old to be this young
but thinking of the things left undone
how many years can you cry a loss
how many fears overcome at what cost?
the crack of breaking so hard and deep
stripped me down to gut
and when lost in weep
I never find the end . . . .
those tattered end threads
to stitch my soul back together
again
.

I’m too smart to be this dumb
but forces stronger than i have overcome
I am washed adrift upon a dark sea
I cannot swim ~ busyness had to carry me
I had paddled hard and found a way
found the strength to give my best each day
and now it settles . . . . quiet
my arms cannot reach
the edges of the tear
to pull the pieces back together
.

I’m too blessed to be with out hope
but in the fragments
of the parts that cope
escape can buy a lift
for a quick crazy leap
in the place of magic
of my hidden keep . . .
I respect the spider
nature’s busy weaver
spins the silken threads
to lift and keep her
she builds her bridge
where there is none
creating paths
on which to run
delicate
wispy
swayed by wind
still the strongest fibre
known to man.

there is no way.
i must make my own
again
.

weave a way . . .

evon ski

Joined June 2009

  • Artist
    Notes
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Artist's Description

today’s lesson . . .

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  • JRGarland
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