A TATTERED TATTING

A Doily on the table lay,
A piece of tatted Lace
Soiled, wrinkled, all askew,
Tattered, in fact, on its face

But I imagined it as it WAS,
When from the patient Hands
And mind and heart of Artisan sprang
To first 'pon table land.

Green, its borders were, and pink:
Twelve triangles bright,
Equispaced, a fair rosette,
'round finest work, pure white.

Alas!, that Time had roughly dealt
That Doily many a blow,
It's spangled dangles shrunk, a-twist,,
And soiled, but spoiled? NO!

Now I, an Artisan, it espied--
I sought but to repair
The loveliness, the Craftsmanship
I knew within was there.

With patience and gentility,
Its dangles I'd untwist,
Steaming lightly, 'til their shape
Untangled, as I'd wish'd!

Its grey, discolored yarns, I kissed
The dirt from every thread…
But then, to my astonishment,
The Doily spoke, and said,

"Take care, fair Artisan, I pray,
For though I may seem worn
Twists and knots are all I am,
For that's how Tatting's born!"

"Mayhap what you perceive as wear's
"But a single thread, untied
"So, one MORE knot, not one Knot less
"I fear you've left untried!"

"Would you consider possible
"That a Craftsman more crafty than Thee
"Has tied and twisted a thousand Knots,
"More subtly that you can see?"

"Thy Pardon, fair Doily!", this Artisan sobbed,
Raised my hands, and backed away,
"I never thought, nor did I ask
"If in this state you'd stay!"

'NO, Sir!", quoth she. "I desire NOT
"The dis-repair, or dust;
"I desire only that the Pattern's respected;
"Giv'n that, do as you must!"

Now a saddened, but wiser Artisan
Her threads, each gently tests,
Inquiring, with each loving touch,
If aught were better left.

And together, each their roles they play
The results, none may yet see,
For they trust a greater Craftsman's hands--
His patience, and gentility!


september 15, 2005

Sheila Kline

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