You
are woven
fast into my fabric.
How shall I unravel you? Yet I must.
Your thread has stopped — no sudden cutting short; it is completed.
A new, plainer pattern starts. In time there’ll be a length of stuff without a sign of
you.
In time there will be something I don’t know yet and cannot now begin
to envision —
except that it will include an absence. But you can’t include
absence is that which is not included. Then
I’ll yearn to re-ravel
you into
life.
This is an experiment suggested by Tony Maude at dVerse Form For All: a syllabic poem based on the Triangular Numbers in a mathematical progression known as Pascal's Triangle (in turn: 1, 3, 6, 10, 15 and 21 syllables per line). In my version, obviously, the syllables also reverse back the other way, reflecting the movement of what is said, between addition and subtraction.
I am also submitting this piece to Poets United's Verse First ~ Edit to Elevate.
You capture part of the paradox that comes with losing someone we love; although they are physically absent, the memory of them remains inextricably entwined in the remainder of our own lives.
ReplyDeleteIn open needlework, even a hole is made beautiful, with significance and bearing upon the whole.You will re-ravel somehow and see through the open spaces into your life again.
ReplyDeleteTony says it better.
This is what a fibonacci should do. Very well done indeed even in sadness.
so felt...the unraveling of them...the desire to reravel them into you life...but knowing as well that is impossible....and then again how we stitch out the rest of our life always knowing there is a piece now missing....
ReplyDeleteYou tell me that I have conveyed what I intended. Thank you.
DeleteBeautiful, sad, haunting ... and well done for attempting that pesky Pascal triangle, which I found a real challenge. Am I right though, in saying that on the way up there are two lines with 10 syllable counts, rather than one of 15. While on the way down, there is a 15 and a 10.
ReplyDeleteDamn, you're right. I never could count! Thanks for noticing; I'll have to see if I can fix it.
DeleteFixed!
Deletere-val them into life... But you can’t include
ReplyDeleteabsence is that which is not included... like marina sofia said above...beautiful, sad haunting..but also totally fascinating
I understand this. The thread is completed. There is no more. The end of the poem has a bit of mystery to me, wondering about the re-raveling back into life. Perhaps through poetry, but I don't know.
ReplyDeleteAh, my friend, that is conceived of only as a yearning.
DeleteWould be nice if we could re-ravel those we love...
ReplyDeleteAnna :o]
I wish I could re-ravel some threads back. This touched my heart. Nicely done.
ReplyDeleteWow, Rosemary. it's like a sock gets a hole and needs darning, but will never be the same. Darning is really a forgotten art. Loss is not forgotten though it changes over time. I love this poem.
ReplyDeleteThanks, Susan. (I used to darn after most others had stopped, but even I gave up long ago. It's because socks are no longer woolllen - therefore cheap to replace, and darns would be uncomfortable.)
DeleteSo poignant, Rosemary. "Soon there'll be a length of stuff without a sign of you." Catches at the heart. I love the form you employed, which is intriguing and works very well with this particular poem. Sigh.
ReplyDeleteBeautifully written...the yearning somehow uplifted my state of mind. Though the last line tugs at the heart. Very beautiful piece!
ReplyDelete...the longing demands to be freed... so beautiful Rosemary... your first 3 lines are striking already & then you followed it with that 'question'... ah, what a wonderful command of words.... deeply enjoyed this... smiles...
ReplyDeleteAdmire the ease with which you've conveyed both longing and letting go ~ M
ReplyDeleteReravel you into life... I love that, Rosemary.
ReplyDelete'I’ll yearn to re-ravel
ReplyDeleteyou into
life.' - the hope sounds here, resonates with me...thanks for visiting my blog :)
I absolutely love this fantastic job =)
ReplyDeleteI got the feeling there was some kind of dilemma here. Wanting to move on and yet not wanting to. Wanting to end something and yet bring it back together. Not sure if that's what you intended to convey, but that's how I read it.
ReplyDeleteInteresting composition.
Suzy at Reflections of my soul
Suzy, you read it absolutely right.
DeleteUnravel to reveal and hide a it too! the process is such - to do or not to do. I found this piece going in circles often so curiously true about thoughts!
ReplyDeleteYou're not wrong!
Delete