The Weaver

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The Weaver

She gently holds the fibres of the past

She chooses which to use and which to leave

Surveying all she holds within her hands

She pinches, twists and twines to hold it fast.

The fibres spun into the yarn she’ll weave

A tapestry like vast and varied lands.


She’s in control and yet she knows not how

Designs, details and colours will emerge

A fabric woven for the test of time

And yet perfection she cannot allow

Mistakes and thin thread bring her to the verge

Where she will meet with wisdom in its prime.


She is the Weaver of her Destiny

She spins the threads she weaves into her life

She holds the threads of lessons not forgot

Decisions and her choices set her free

She trusts that it will all come out all right

For she’s in control and yet somehow she’s not.


Jennifer McCormack

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