Friday, March 14, 2014

The Passing of a Crafter

I received a phone call from a friend this week informing me that a very dear lady had passed away.  She was a crafter.  Here is what I envisioned.

* * * 

For Joleen
Fabric on the cutting table
Pins still pushed through the layers of
Pattern tissue and muslin.
Ready for cutting.

The sewing machine surrounded by bits of remnant,
Ghosts of projects recently past
Bits of string snipped from the ends 
The waste basket filled with fibers
Carefully selected pieces of 
Calico chintz and broadcloth 
Partially assembled, stacked on the desk
No actual surface of said furniture visible

The room awaits it's mistress
Dust settles in the interim
Weighty medical appointments detain
The Lady of the realm
No worries. She's left the room many times before and
Always returned to pick up where she left
The myriad of finished projects 
Bear testament to her consistency

The rolls of ribbons on their rack rest easily
The zippers and buttons await their next venue
Stacks of fabric tip precariously from their 
Home inside the open armoire
A new lady enters, eyes glistening
New fingers brush along the many textures 
Housed in their dutiful yet disheveled places
She stops and turns full circle.

The Lady's scent still lingers
Though it's been months since she stood here
The new comer lifts the fabric on the cutting table
Her finger pricked on a pin, she cries out

Though the pain in her finger is slight,
The pain in her heart explodes afresh.
She will save this sorting for another day.
The door shuts quietly the dust settles once again.