the process of crocheting an
afghan is about just that
the process
you make an afghan looking
forward to the nights you will
curl up under it and relishing
the way it fits over your
legs when it's halfway finished
or thinking and hoping
how much someone you love
will love and appreciate
your gift of time and callouses
weaving a container for whatever
emotions you need contained
i realized this that first winter
deep in february when i began
my long nights of scrap yarn
desperately trying to piece
something together out of
the not knowing why
i told myself that this was it
the sum total of my works
the item they would fold up and
place on the table next to the jar
of my ashes come september
and it was done by march
a slow and roundabout way
of pushing myself through
the suicidal smog
smeared through my mind
my friends had blankets wrapped
around them that bright morning
of the anniversary we all cried together
my tears falling on my afghan
i made them each an afghan
plus a few more
always pushing myself
to look forward
lost count of how
much yarn i used
how many stitches
passed through my hands
but by the time the next
march came around i
had made or charted
out five more
to fill the void
clawing at my insides
spent a year making
myself another
in tight ripples of
time and television
and now
my fingers
slow
and stop
seven afghans
in two years
is an accomplishment
that might send the
head of even the
highest caliber of
grandma spinning
i have no more afghans
left in me to make
so instead i crawl
down into bed
two i made
two from friends
and one from
my mother
and lie
head pounding
eyes puffy
void of energy
in the space
between my afghans
Apr 20, 2018
Apr 20, 2018 at 10:07 AM UTC
the process of crocheting an
afghan is about just that
the process
you make an afghan looking
forward to the nights you will
curl up under it and relishing
the way it fits over your
legs when it's halfway finished
or thinking and hoping
how much someone you love
will love and appreciate
your gift of time and callouses
weaving a container for whatever
emotions you need contained
i realized this that first winter
deep in february when i began
my long nights of scrap yarn
desperately trying to piece
something together out of
the not knowing why
i told myself that this was it
the sum total of my works
the item they would fold up and
place on the table next to the jar
of my ashes come september
and it was done by march
a slow and roundabout way
of pushing myself through
the suicidal smog
smeared through my mind
my friends had blankets wrapped
around them that bright morning
of the anniversary we all cried together
my tears falling on my afghan
i made them each an afghan
plus a few more
always pushing myself
to look forward
lost count of how
much yarn i used
how many stitches
passed through my hands
but by the time the next
march came around i
had made or charted
out five more
to fill the void
clawing at my insides
spent a year making
myself another
in tight ripples of
time and television
and now
my fingers
slow
and stop
seven afghans
in two years
is an accomplishment
that might send the
head of even the
highest caliber of
grandma spinning
i have no more afghans
left in me to make
so instead i crawl
down into bed
two i made
two from friends
and one from
my mother
and lie
head pounding
eyes puffy
void of energy
in the space
between my afghans