New Cloth

Outside it is four below.
Ice hangs on the windows,
and the wind has howled all night
like a hungry beast.

The old house is drafty
and with each frozen gust
the curtains waft out
from the walls, announcing the arrival

of a cold that creeps into your bones
slowly, like an icy cancer.
Your furnace, older than you,
burns bright and beautifully inefficient,

unable to keep pace with the frigid night air.
You huddle under your quilt,
an heirloom, and more than that,
woven and pieced together

by your great grandmother,
a woman beyond your memory,
save for sepia photographs
and fireside talks over coffee

with your mother.
The quilt is a living thing,
patched and refilled many times,
added to by generations

whose lives have changed beyond recognition
since the season this quilt was first sewn.
It has graced the beds of lonely old women,
hung on the walls of the rich and proud,

and tonight, it is your sanctuary,
covering you like faith,
preserving your body against the cold,
always changing,

yet somehow,
comfortingly eternal.

Soon, the sun will come up.
the wind will weaken and surrender
to the day’s warmth.
The brightly burning furnace will emerge victor

against the devilish cold.
You will emerge from your patchwork cocoon
preserved to live another day,
You will neatly fold the quilt at the end of the bed,

noticing a slight fraying.
Today, you say; today you will take needle and thread
and add a new swath of cloth,
your contribution to a life

beyond your own.

About this poem

As always, a poem is a mix of truth and imagination. It was not four below last night, but I do live in Vermont and that kind of temperature is not uncommon here. My house was built in 1800, or at least that is how far back the deed goes. It has a draft or two, but I have no curtains, so I don’t know how drafty it is. I’m probably happier not knowing.

I have a quilt, but it was bought at JC Penny. But my faith – that I do have and in some ways, it is the hand me down of several generations, and like the quilt in the poem, always being changed, yet the essence of it, how Christ covered our sins to allow us to live in relationship with God, remains eternal.

The picture is not a quilt, but of blankets that were at the Vermont Country Store in Weston, Vermont.

Tom

About these Lenten Poems

My friend Cathy Benson is on to something. Instead of doing without for Lent, she is doing MORE with a prayer project that is thoughtful and caring.

Giving up something for Lent is a church tradition, not a biblical command. It was designed to get our minds and hearts right as we approach the holy week and Easter. It’s a good spiritual discipline.

But I think a spiritual discipline of doing something more is also a powerful way to prepare our hearts for Easter. The Methodists, through their “Rethink Church” initiative have come up with a photographic way to do this (see below). I am going to add a poem with each image for the lent season to help prepare myself. Feel free to glom on to the idea, visit the blog and read, or share your thoughts and prayers.