The intimacy of sitting in little chairs,
with your brother
at a little table set for two.
Having a little tea or cocoa,
in little tiny cups.
Imagining, 
…imagining what it is like
to be another,
to be you at a different time.

Here, sitting with your brother
with just a taste
of orange, 
and just a taste of apple,
and just a taste 
of an older life.
Pretending
…and being real,
being both silly
and  grown up.

Then looking out the window,
seeing the horizon in the distance,
the edge that is yet to be explored.
Sitting there with  your  older self,
tucked safely deep inside.
This communion, always with you
at a table set for two.
You are living now, as you will be living then.
Though, your view is sheltered,
this is who you are.

The courage it will take to leave,
But, the delight in coming back…
to this shelter,
to this tea,
to this brother, and
to this your centered self.

This poem came from seeing a picture of two grandsons having “tea”, a small snack to provide some nourishment but also to occupy them for a “little” while. It is a beautiful picture of two brothers having fun…the older looking out the window that he faced, past the younger. While the younger seemed to be chatting and engrossed in the setting.

Tension transferred
from body to the yarn, 
as heartbeat paces
to the rhythm of needles,
knitting a rosary of sorts,
bead for stitch,   
   …by stitch,
knit one,purl one.
Allowing the mind
to weave its way gently,
through the skein 
of thoughts that come
…in the evenings.
Unraveling the day.
Unwinding.
Knit one,
…purl one,
…yarn over.
Settling.
Integrating,
   Stitch by stitch
making a garment,
…something to wear,
   …that will cover
      shoulders or head, hands or feet.
Yarn over, increase, the language of faith.
Knit two together, the language of unity.
Knit one, purl one,
a fingered prayer that covers a life.

Mary Herbert   2/2021

This poem was written after a discussion with my sister.  I have no idea how knitting became a part of that time, but we talked about what we have knitted, that we liked knitting with quality yarn and that my daughter had renewed my interest in knitting.  I mentioned that I had observed women knitting in a train station and they seemed so relaxed and that I’d noticed that just watching them knit was relaxing.  Then she began wondering what happened when knitters got “in the zone”.  It made me wonder as well.

Six and standing silent,
there beside my bed,
watching me sleep,
willing me to wake,
wanting me to see.

Startled by presence,
seeing him, I smile.
…Can I snuggle or
do I sneak back 
to sleep alone…
the question in the air.

I lift the covers like
the wing of a hen
and slowly gather
these pajamas close in.
And as his breathing slows
I wander in my mind
and wonder where we’ll go,
and wonder if he will lead me,
and where
we go
from here.

1/23/21

We went up to visit my daughter at the end of 2020.  We’d had recovered from Covid, and wanted to be around family.  One morning I woke to my grandson standing silently next to my bed with his “snuggly” in hand.  As I lifted the covers I had a sense of the sacredness of that moment.  As I have reflected back on the moment I had the desire to crawl under a divine wing and just be.  I thought about how the Scriptures say a “child shall lead them” and realized this child had led me to this sacred desire to draw in close to the divine and it made me think about how a child’s life changes a parent’s and grandparent’s life.  I was aware of the deep love I have for this child, for all my grandchildren, for my children.  They have each changed my life and led me to different places within myself.

This was once my home. The lean-to for the tempest. The cross it welcomed the pain. The silence invited the joy. And the spirit could be heard.

It certainly is the passing of time. But maybe also it… Or me… Or both. For, here now, I am broken. I mourn.

“Sanctuary!” I cried, “Sanctuary!” But now, now I simply cry. For what was once a den of refuge has since become a den of thieves.