We began to weave before Eden.
One spindled all the colors,
of water, clay, and sunrise;
one firmed the warp;
another lanced the weft.
We danced. And God
(that dark anger) stepped
into our sweet waltz
with His Sinai stone word;
yet how could we not dance
our weave, and so wove
such darkness—even mankind
and his madness
would never bright—
Jesus could not
nor Buddha nor Mohammad
not Mother Teresa, nor Gandhi—
Nor we, weave though we wove
a color of community into all
the Bethlehems, Tenochtitlans, and Romes–
we could not weave
a world we could love.
All the ocher, salmon, and blue ribbon we chose,
in wrapping God, unhued a plain and starless
robe to wrap you in with Him.
We are so sorry.
talisman [origin: French or Spanish (=Italian talismano) app. from medieval Greek telesmon alt. of late Greek telesma completion, performance, religious rite, consecrated object, from telein complete, perform (a rite), consecrate from telos result, end]