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Knit, gnarled fingers, until broken shards of sunset fade
Join day
With night
Purl two together through back loop.
Stitch tight, evening’s cool breeze silk
Amid
Rows upon roses red dawn’s yarn.
Kiss light the lips of morn’s moist face
Grandson duels with death’s embrace.
Pray, gnarled fingers, until scattered stains of sunrise stray
Join night
With day
Purl two together through back loop.
Stitch tight, faith’s fabric freshest scent
Amid
Rows upon roses red hope’s yarn.
Kiss light the lips of morn’s moist face
Grandson reaches for beckoned grace.
Knit, clasped fingers, until hostile storms of panzers calm
Pray day
And night
Purl two together through back loop.
Stitch tight, far stars you cannot see
Amid
Rows upon roses red faith’s yarn.
Kiss light the lips of morn’s moist face
Grandsons warm
In your gnarled embrace.
Post Script
The grandmother in this poem taught to treat every new day with respect; not knowing what it will bring. But, she added, prayer is the comforter (blanket) that gives us hope and strength to deal with each day’s events. While her grandson was off to war, she knit as she prayed for him. That comforter is on his grandchild’s bed today.
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