Dull Doilies?

 

A doily, a dull crocheted symmetry 

Sits on my bedside table, has for months 

It has a fringe and beads woven all through

I notice, a little sentiment threaded into an edge

Just above where I left the coffee cup stain

When the lamp illuminates it, it exudes charisma

An incandescent coziness hums from it’s center

Throwing shadows of joy, onto my face

I can give this up, have so many more

Shapeless now with my careless washing

Just a doily fading into the background

I set aside the tray sitting on it, careless

And gather the threaded mat into my hands

Tickling into my palms are threaded stitches

Acupressure like, the dye passes through me

Awakened, I hear the prayers in every knot

Prayers in every knot, fingers in recitation

As my mother on her rocking chair, sat for hours 

Weaving our lives into bundles of colored yarn

Not just a pastime, she shaped us in these doilies

She shaped us in these doilies, her hands always dancing

In harmony with crochet hooks, and herself

The intricate motions of weaving, healed her

A doily, a dull crocheted symmetry

Sits on my bedside table, will forevermore 

 

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NaPoWriMo 2019

a dull thing you own – giving it away/destroying it