These little songs come and go: gifts from the spirits. When I leaped--or rather hobbled--back to my bead box, I was disappointed to realize the "knotting song" had slipped my mind. I remembered a bit about seeds and beads, but the words and rhythm drifted formlessly. After all, I hadn't made macramé in over a year. Only the lull after graduation and a sprained ankle freed enough time and inspiration to string beads...and dredge my mind for weaving songs.
Happily today, as I began the long work of creating a macramé hoop, the words returned. I'm writing them down in hopes they'll linger. ~Blessed Be~
Sort and gather, searching for seeds,
Sort and gather, stringing the beads,
Sort and gather my mother’s red thread,
Tangle and spiral, both form a web.
What I make, the hands give shape.
What I break, I mend,
What I take, I give.