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Image: Old Lady threading by Ronaldo de Campos Fernandes
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Longing
A gloomy old lady
With a hump.
Wrinkles.
Threading on the old spinning wheel
Bony fingers still dexterous
but slow
no hurries
signs of past times
From the window at the high tower she watches the clock
in constant oscillation
startling
Bang
at each twang
The heart no longer accompanies the clock
It goes at it’s own pace
Misplaced
The wheel, the clock , memories
rotate with the earth
in a centrifugal universe
Those whom watch from the light won’t see her
She is mixed in the grim darkness
in yellowish earth tones
in the shadows of yesterday
The veil of cataract does not hide completely the light
As she gazes from the window the colors of extinct days
She is longing
since the womb longing before,
a constant gaze at yesterday
memories marked in a pendulum
of a constant time
The old lady glimpses memories,
where time is always present
she gazes from the darkness
A long absent yesterday
The mother scolds her scraped knee
The red ribbon
Felix, the kitten
buried in the backyard
Blushing yet the memory of a kiss
Ecstasy still the inebriating images of love
The thread falls from her hands
entangled to the possibilities
of what might have been
of that yarn reel
The old lady pulls chunks of cotton
insidiously turning the old spinning wheel
rotating forward
continuously
she weaves a reel
to be knitted into the little girl’s dress
a girl who still turns into the womb
dormant
The piercing squeak of the spinning wheel
follows the black hole
within her chest
swallowing to permanent darkness
the nebular spark
of a longing dwarf star
