cloth we’re cut from

I guess I imagined gossamer curtains. Sunlight dappling in. A breeze, lifting, billowing, creating magical shadows. I imagined a softness, a drape. I imagined spilling language like this.

Instead, I am burlap and worn velvet ribbon. In some places I am thicker, and hold a crease. I abrade a bit when rubbed too hard. I am an excellent foundation for paint and glue.  My weave is loose enough to let light through, and deep enough to create my own shadows. I am strong enough to hold stones, to taunt scissors. I offer a different kind of fabric, or, maybe, different kinds of fabric. A crazy quilt, but one that lets light pass.  This part worn smooth like an ancient pillow case.  This part rough and new.

And while I can envy other lightness all I want,  I can say yes to the words that roll so deliciously into my head, across my mind’s tongue, it is my lightness that I have and have to offer. This thread, this ribbon, this softness, this heft…


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4 thoughts on “cloth we’re cut from

  1. Hello Kate,
    As always an inspiration, I wish I could write with you again! (i wish I could make myself write)

    the cloth I am cut from is a remnant from another time, a masterpiece quilt of highlanders, Irish dancers, Artists and mistral performers. Colors pass from pale pastel to violent plaid, and are played loudly like bagpipes. I am weaved brilliantly with honest golden -white thread, the tears are obvious and the patches sewn with diligence. The overall effect is less style and more practicality like the favorite denim jeans you wont part with even if they dont fit. The cloth I am cut from is warm like a blanket yet sometimes prickly like wool, used as a rag, used as a wedding veil, used as bandages to soak up blood, used as swaddling for all the is born new

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