Life-Weavings

By Yashika Taneja

Far, far, away in the forgotten land

Stands an old village

Ruined by the wounds of time

Sheltering still a handful living

What brought me here I don’t understand

No where can I see any tillage

Only hear faint birds chime

I search for the old man weaving

I enter that thatched roof hut

As barren as a shell of an eaten nut

With a loud creak opens the faded brown door

Marks of time on its wood it bore

The chirping of the birds doesn’t lessen

As I enter that old faded barren mansion

At the end of the dark room I see a light

The brilliance of sunshine yellow and bright

I pass through the dust filled room

Where in the corner lies an unused broom

I feel my heart’s beating quiver

To meet the old forgotten weaver

As I reach really close to him

All this no more seems like a whim

I see the wrinkled hands moving to and fro

Making all threads talk and glow

I look at the weaver, I smile

He looks at me, stares for a while

Then looks at the cloth he works on

I think I heard an escape of a moan

The soothing rhythm of his weaving

Enraptures me, I sit gazing

At his experienced aging hands

That weave magic like a fairy’s wand

Now, my gaze at the fabric falls

I feel myself stiffen against the mud wall

Oh! what an image I see

That binds me strong, I can’t flee...!

I moan, I sigh, I stifle, I cry

I look hard at him for long

Into his eyes I try to pry

And then I begin my lament song…

Oh weaver! What do you weave?

The black that you pull at now

Strings with it my sorrow and pain

Though it gives me power to make all bow

I find it all worthless and in vain

This black of the cloth will spill

All in my life that has been evil

It sucks and absorbs all my light

Leaves me dark, drinks away my bright

Oh weaver! What do you weave?

The white that you add after black

Shows my emptiness, all that I lack

The inside of me is cold and white

Lots of space and blinding light

This white of the cloth will lens

The unused and accumulated innocence

That makes me peaceful and pure

All the sorrow around it can cure

Oh weaver! What do you weave?

The red that you weave after white

On my fierce anger throws a light

My love is so strong and intense

It can break away the toughest fence

The red of this cloth will show

That warmth of love inside me grows

To all that I love, care and comfort it gives

This dramatic red blood till in me lives

Oh weaver! What do you weave?

The blue that you lock in after red

Peace and calm to me it has fed

It is the tranquillity running in my veins

Providing cool pleasures even in my pains

This blue of the cloth will procure

All that I feel inside me is secure

With its coolness and serenity

It helps people reach divinity

Oh weaver! What do you weave?

The green that you weave after blue

Is my freshness in its form true

For others it works as a soothing balm

Brings them comfort, joy and calm

This green of the cloth will reveal

Stress free moments one can feel

The health and cheer that I possess

Will help diminish all the stress

Oh weaver! What do you weave?

The coloured fabric that you make

From my insides everything it takes

It pulls out of me my life song

It looks all right, but feels all wrong

Add in it some shades of grey

Which shows my life in between sways

No one colour can fully say

What all in my life lays

As I stare at the weaver’s fabric

That is now complete by his magic

Lo and behold! what do I see?

It’s my life woven, the fabric of me!!

By Yashika Taneja