Graveyard Quilt, Begun 1836
Before the willow,
the fence,
the coffins waiting in rows,
she stitched a flower
to witness the names she kept
in the center,
rooted in the space
between sorrow and resolve.
Some griefs are too deep to piece.
At the cemetery’s gates
she placed
her signature in red,
spilling out in revision,
bordering the path:
a roseberry repeating
on calico cut from school clothes,
from scraps worn soft
by boys buried in Ohio.
Each bud a word,
each leaf a memory pressed
between thimble and threadscript —
for remembrance,
not forever.
12 thoughts on "Graveyard Quilt, Begun 1836"
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This is a beautifully stitched poem. I love the idea of the space between sorrow and resolve – so true! Also the bud, the leaf and the “memory pressed/between thimble and threadscript”
thank you 🥀
I’m always impressed by how naturally you intersperse abstractions like “between sorrow and resolve” amid the concrete nouns like “boys buried in Ohio.” Hard to do well, I think, but you do it.
thank you
Nancy says this well, “This is a beautifully stitched poem.”
This lines resonates deep: ‘Some griefs are too deep to piece.”
Adore: “a memory pressed
between thimble and threadscript —”
thank you so much
Yes i I echo thw previous replys.
Thank you for the link.
Great way to build an ekphrastic.
I clicked the link before reading and I’m glad I did.
Incredibly deft stitches poet.
“between thimble and threadscript —”
thank you
AAAhhhhh! Those graveyard quilts are so thought provoking.
Like Kevin, I applaud your weaving the concrete with the sublime.
“Rooted in the space between sorrow and resolve.”
What wisdom! Someone who was very special to me died in October 2023, and I’ve really had trouble letting it go. This line helps me heal. Thanks ever so much.
I’m sorry for your loss.
Thank you for the kind words.
Love “a roseberry repeating/on calico…” Gorgeous image!
thank you 🥀