Angele Toomey Poetry

This year has been difficult.

The words that once flooded my day have remained, more often than not, ebbed out far beyond the horizon.

But I am trying. And I will keep trying.

This poem is one I wrote earlier this year, but at least I am sitting here typing it out.

Woven together
The lives we make are like tapestries
woven as we live.
We cannot know what shape or pattern
will emerge,
the meaning of the textures and colours
sometimes only
revealed after we are far enough
away to see the whole.

Today I feel lost without you
wishing that here had been more
threads for you,
and I had more time with you.
But I know that you are still with me.

You are with me in the memories
I have of you
and in the ways the textures
of your tapestry
are reflected in the tapestry of my life.
My tapestry is richer because of you.
And I carry forward the best of your threads
so that I can wrap myself in
their warmth and comfort,
knowing that we are
forever woven together.