The Thread

I pull on it and
It stretches in a long marvelous way
Unknitting what once was.
I stop the pulling and ask
"Do I really want to undo
these curls
and burls
and whirls
That once made such a....?"
To answer would be to unravel
A different kind of thread.

I let it go...
The thread hangs limp
and lifeless,
ruined...
I want the entire thing
To snap back into place with it's conviction,
Usefulness,
Skill.

Picking it up
And turning it around
I notice that
I can never really see
The wholeness of it all.
There's always a back side,
a blind side,
a dark side,
A place that my hope
Fills in with imaginary perfection.

I drop the knitted threads,
Their limbs all wound around each other
In beautiful utility.
And the way she fell
Hid all the unraveling...

My quick movements
Expose the long thread again
And I ask,
"Is this a dangling of frustration,
A careless moment
When I rushed to reach
An end?"

"No" she says with a sigh.
"It happened when you hugged
The warm furry body
Of your cat,
And she hugged back -
The way only a cat can hug -
Kneading into your softness."