The Fatesby Jane Yolen | ||||||||
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Fire shadows on the wall, A hand rises, falls, as steady as a heart beat, Threading the strands of life. This is the warp thread, this the woof, This the hero-line, this the fool. Needle and scissors, scissors and pins, Where one life ends, another begins. There was a hero, once, from Ithica. See how he travels the road. Dust devils up under his bare feet. The pattern in the dust is plainweave, Is herringweave, is twill. Needle and scissors, scissors and pins, Where one life ends, another begins. So quickly the shuttle flies, As fast as an arrow to the heart, As fast as the poison of the asp, As fast as the sword blade against the neck, As fast as life, as fast as death. Needle and scissors, scissors and pins, Where one life ends, another begins. Did the silkworm come first, Spinning its cocoon tapestry So Clotho could unspin its cloak home Into one of her own? Did the Morai learn from a worm? Needle and scissors, scissors and pins, Where one life ends, another begins. Or did she come upon flax as a girl And, seduced by its bright blue flowers, Blue as the branching veins beneath the fragile shield of skin, Crush it into fiber and thread? Needle and scissors, scissors and pins, Where one life ends, another begins. Needle and scissors, scissors and pins, Where one life ends, another begins. Spindle and rod and tablet and thread, The scissors close-and you are dead. | ||||||||
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