Good afternoon: Today we have a poem post tied together with some thoughts about my generational connection to fabric.
How do we remain free? There is of course another way to look at this.
You were loved among the gardens and the valleys, you were loved among
the streams and trees, you were loved where love reached the highest peaks.
Then and then. We found another way. A way to surpass the love, gain it faster.
Not wait for the sun to rise, but make the sun rise, when we commanded it to.
Now how do we remain free? Freedom was bypass by the valleys and streams.
we didn’t want the freedom we asked to have, we wanted a different freedom. A new freedom.
A created freedom, a ghost of freedom, a sense of freedom of where we came from.
Something was lost once we decided we didn’t want to wait.
The natural cycles. The rhythms. The turning of the world. We watch it cry.
One slow drip after another. Growing older.
Moving farther away from what we knew but getting closer to what we had to undone.
Much closer. To a version of me undone from your guilt.
How do I find her? How do I embody all that is her?
Hair running in the stream of dignity no longer held by the trauma of the disbelief
that any thing controlled me.
Entangled in freedom of your identity.
Creating a version of life filled with your own fabric and genetics.
My grandmother Kay [pictured below] was a remarkable businesswoman, serving as president of her sorority and making history as the first woman to lead the chamber of commerce in her town of East Aurora, a suburb outside Buffalo, New York. She was also a skilled artisan, dedicated to yarn, needlepoint, and knitting, and she owned a yarn business for over 45 years. She was one of the most influential figures in my life, and her legacy continues to inspire me.
Thinking about the entanglement of her identity within the fabric of my DNA is a funny idea. Besides what her legacy offers me in inspiration, some of her desires and ways of operating in the world are also similar to the way I interact with the world. Yet there are many different strands woven into the fabric of my DNA. We all have various parts that come together to create our whole selves, just like the fabric of my blended shirt keeps me warm, protects me, and adds character. It reveals something new and exciting about who I am.
In the poem above, I explored these ideas, reflecting on how we create, the changing times, and the inevitable growth of both textiles and generational identity. The parallel I’m using between our genetic lineage and physical textiles is no coincidence. Both are intricately woven together and are equally important—human life and the life of fabric. We must treat both with delicate care.
-Leigha
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