The Scarf

The Scarf

Deborah Beach Giordano
© April 28, 2011

I bought a scarf today
made in Tibet;
a strip of woolen cloth
as long
as I am tall;
exactly.

Did she know somehow
that it was just right;
that Himalayan lady,
as she measured it out;
calculating her design
so perfectly?

A coded message
crossing cultures,
space and distance
inscribed in yarn
by a golden Time Lord
with needle and thread.

In silent wonder
I gaze at the pattern,
my fingers retracing
the magical runes
embroidered
so carefully.

Wrapped
within its folds
I hear the hum
of chanting monks
and the clashing
temple bells,

The smoky aroma
of incense
fills the air;
all is peaceful,
calm,
and clear.

I have been snared;
captured by the Holy Hunter
once again;
enraptured
by a sacred prayer
woven in wool.

And I offer humble thanks
for my unknown sister
who lives in that land so far away –
beyond the mountains,
on the other side
of the sea;

for her skill and patience,
for the work of her hands
which I enfold in mine:
this soft and lovely creation
that interweaves
our separate lives.

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About inklingscommunity

I am a struggling Christian, committed pacifist, near-obsessive recycler, incurable animal lover, inveterate tree-hugger; a nature mystic, a socialized introvert, an advocate for the vulnerable, an opponent of exploiters.
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