The Family Quilt


Slowly, I move forward

Approaching the bed

Her prone frame lies waiting there

Softly breathing

Looking up

But no longer seeing

Draped over her hands

Is the green and white quilt

She has been creating

Since I was a child

I used to watch

Her nimble hands

Working the thread

Tying together

Each special square

With a significant meaning

Carrying stories

From one generation to the next

She would retell these stories

Often enough

That we all knew them well

And watching

We’d see



Into the quilt


It was time

To let it be

Her hands so frail

Blue veins lumping across

And the bony bumps

Of unforgiving arthritis

Distorting what was once


Yet, on the quilt shall go

As I gently take it from her hands

The mantle now passed

I will continue

Providing the service

My hands will add

Future links

And stories will be retold

As she goes into her final slumber

I’m certain

That somehow

She knows