Ripping

Mamo__a__story_of_geraldine_plunkett_dillon_by_isolde_obrolchain_carmodyby Isolde ÓBrolcháin Carmody31 May 2020

Not every stitch is strong

I would steam through
Disregarding dropped stitches
Confused by loops
Made by my uncertain hands.

I could not understand
The strange shapes emerging
Invisible in the present

I lived proudly with my crooked creations
The wonky hat that didn’t fit
In stripes of random strands

But the hat didn’t keep my ears warm
And it blew off my head
And left me naked, shivering.

That day that I lay shaking
You came and held my hand
Offering no platitudes
Just winding each unravelled strand
And you wove me back together
With a song in every thread

You were watching me
Now I’m watching you
As you guide my hands
In ancient technique

Helping me to understand
Fluid mechanics
Hyperbolic geometry
Structure born of process
Opening joyous spaces
Of nuance and subtlety