I got the material from a grandmother
not my grandmother, but a woman
she had borne children
they had borne children
there was a general striding of time that was appropriate to christen the cloth
to make it deep with winter, spring, summer, Death
to make the threads
to thread the threads
to ply the threads
to twine the threads
with the ineffable
the speechless time monkeys
the statues that look at us
wrought from cliffs dyed
to our imaginations
Like a deep bear
like a dark spot on the bluff that when climbed
is only a contour
not a cave
not alive
but watching us all the same
watching our humanness
The cloth spread out and settled over the world.
Old night saw that it was good
spread with not a wrinkle
on the shapes of the world
and that was humanness
And that was what we donned
in daylight
waiting there
for our children to go to sleep by themselves
for our souls to have a moment
to reunite with the snow that fell
and the leaves that fell
and the love that kindled anew
When the shapes moved under the quilt of the grandmother
I didn’t know if it was the world I’d lost
or the world I’d gained
About the Author
Martina Avis was born and raised in the Slocan Valley. She has a BA in Literature from the University of Victoria and writes intermittently. She returned to the valley about ten years ago and is raising two children and a dog who looks like a dingo.
