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Button lies heavy.
It’s hard, black surface
Standing still and
Finding small comfort
Among the shiny, wrinkled ribbons
Of deep red.

Button reaches –
Touching the sister ribbon
Of faded yellow-green
Wanting what the ribbons have.

Ribbons so entangled.
Enmeshed in the softness
That cloud-like yarn offers
In gratitude.

They hardly notice
Button’s earnest effort;
Feeling only the weight.
Glass button, a sharp contrast.

Button, oh ill shaped button
Not a square, nor a circle
Who made you?

How is it you have landed here?

Loretta Warner, I Love Knitting
Poet and writer who uses all things textile – as a distraction.

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Become a minister of the Eucharist
And, see the world.

Ours is a world of hands
Human hands – opened
And, of human hands – receiving.

Two hands held near heart, uplifted!
With faces and eyes gazing in reverence.
Of vulnerability, at the Gift.
In sharing, of commonality.

How can I not know
That I am safe in this world.
When I see these hands?

I am knocked down onto my knees
By this holy experience, of shared belief
That there is more to this world
Than any of us can see while in our human bodies.

In wavelike lines, waiting our turn, and we trust.
Every week we receive, as if medicine.
Our sharing in this ritual of Eucharist.

Though, here in Church, we are disconnected
From the streets and the lights of the city
In which our lives really occur.
Daily living, filled with chores that have become duties.

Where the world is – of voices.
Talk, and waiting for another turn,
To talk again.

Now I know and understand
That our God is a God of Silence
And, my heart sings with relief!

I can go anywhere.
I can be anyone.
I already am!

Loretta Warner, I Love Knitting
Poet and writer who uses all things textile – as a distraction.

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