Aphelion Issue 242, Volume 23
August 2019
 
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The Loom

by Teri Wachowiak


Sister, sister, spin me thread,
From your hand, it comes to me.
Sister, sister, cut this thread,
A pattern forming we will see.

From their deeds, the thread is spun,
Brave or noble, all we see.
Weave a cord that touches all,
In the vast world tapestry.

Sister, sister, spin me thread,
From your hand, it comes to me.
Sister, sister, cut this thread,
A pattern forming we will see.

Time measured, day by day,
From birth to grave, I give them life,
Then pass them to my sister’s hand,
Who cuts the thread off with her knife.

Sister, sister, spin me thread,
From your hand, it comes to me.
Sister, sister, cut this thread,
A pattern forming we will see.

Some are short and some are long,
Some are drab and some are bright.
All are used to weave the cloth,
All find places, dark or light.

Sister, sister, spin me thread,
From your hand, it comes to me.
Sister, sister, cut this thread,
A pattern forming we will see.

Some threads coarse lie hidden deep,
Some threads brightly gleam and shine.
What the picture’s end will be,
Man’s own value he will find.

Sister, sister, spin me thread,
From your hand, it comes to me.
Sister, sister, cut this thread,
A pattern forming we will see.

Year by year, the cloth it grows,
Shaped by the short lives of man.
All are used within the weave,
Cloth that’s grown since time began.

Sister, sister, spin me thread,
From your hand, it comes to me.
Sister, sister, cut this thread,
A pattern forming we will see.


© 1999, 2006 Teri Wachowiak

Find more by Teri Wachowiak in the Author Index.

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