Virginia Jensen

Family of Knots

Virginia Jensen

Issue 58, Autumn 2019

On a cloudy day, I bead

and my hands find purpose.

Every bead does just as I say

never questioning my design.

My needle boldly pierces

the ready holes one by one,

gathers the beads into final form.

Only the thread rebels

tying itself in loops and knots.

merciless string, it kinks and twists

heedless of my intentioned bliss,

indifferent to coming stress.

Traffic jams are like that

and some conversations.

words turn and tangle;

opinions are tightened,

misunderstandings twist,

build into hard knots and

have to be picked out with

the insertion of two needles.

Families are like that too,

some belligerent, opinionated;

siblings wrangle, parents angle

for control, dangle promises.

We try to unravel the distress

with a picnic in the sun. rain

falls instead and drowns the charcoal,

but the potato salad is good,

and we stand close to each other

under the shelter, rubbing elbows,

loosening a few threads,

carefully letting go,

the occasional knot.