Going Home

Flow with these stitches
made with such love
my mother inside her garden
with light and art within her
bright walls.  I walk back
to this world with my silence
and my own garden in bloom
my luck holds, my dreams unfold
slowly, layer over layer, to
deepen into more substance
to know that a return signifies
no more or less than an action
to bear this love.

attic windows

They build up, these concerns and issues, flies in the ointment, at the wrong time and place.  I scratch at them and pull them apart until I'm raw, but until they flow away under the drum of my machine or the pricking of my needle, nothing releases the pressure.  The language of yoga undoes some of it, but the step of sewing, the interplay of hand and needle, change under hand, accessed immediately, the solidity of a quilted piece of fabric, the sudden strengthening and inside too, my resolve stretches and I feel the possibilities open to me, nourishing me, but it's my own creative juice flowing through and making something happen.  What would you place in your windows?  In mine the wonders of the magical mystery carney, monkeys ride elephants to the loud beating of the band, share views with peter pan and the children of never-neverland--old french fabrics unlike anything I've seen before. The vivid colors will hang on my child's wall.  Everything gifted and blessed.

blessings

Count them everyday-the small to the large, especially the cherishing of the children.  The journey to mexico showed me that boundaries support love, that we need them to hold us together both as adults and children.  Those who have confusion over them, suffer and make others suffer too.  I just keep making my quilt with love, commitment and hard labor--emphasis on manners too.