Poem: Stitches in a Magic Rug
I have a magic rug, that is torn and stitched many times over. I use it to cover my love and myself, often hiding from the harsh elements of this world.
It was not the best time for me, but I have the magic potion in the form of Priya Patel’s words. She invoked a magic rug in the middle of our chat, and this started a poetry exchange after the initial banter.
Here is the filtered synopsis of our banter:
Me: I am good at this… how to stitch and stitch a torn called life.
She: Stitch and stitch … Not so torn my friend. Yours is a magic rug compared to many. Try to think of it that way. Sometimes when I’m at my lowest or down, I watch the news and realize how lucky I am. Quick fix!
I did not reply ( or I did, but can’t share it here), so I wrote a poem on this magic rug thing we talked about.
Poem: Stitches in a Magic Rug
My contention was that she treated the magic rug as a cozy blanket, while I wanted to fly on it like a butterfly.
My life is a torn fabric.
Stitch and stitch she says
It is a fabric woven of love.
The magic rug of your life
To cover yourself and her.
A few warm words
And just that silent presence
In front of the television
Ah- that smart one with Youtube
With soothing piano music
Playing B-minor on the Piano
‘The Coral Reef 8k’ says the title
Clips of colorful fish
Swimming in coral reef
Cozy in their safe haven
Never exploring the big blue
Staying within the shallows
You get the picture
Safe, cozy cocoon —
A cocoon is your dream
But I am a butterfly too
I have got the wings
I want to fly
Dance in the breeze
Smell the flowers
Nourish on their nectar
Let the sun shine on me
So… between us dear
My life is a torn fabric
Between your dream of a cocoon
And my dream of a butterfly
We will stitch and stitch
And cover ourselves with the magic rug.~Ashok Subramanian © 2023
She did not contend, instead chose to comfort me.
I love that my words
bring you comfort,
especially at a time
when there are moments
of complete unrest
in your thoughts
With you, I do not think
when I write;
instead, I close my eyes
and abandon sight
All the silent moments
where I can feel your pain,
where the anxiety you hide
I can feel like the rain,
where it just seems like
you are forever falling,
I feel that …
and that’s where my words
for you come from
They are to show you
how beautiful the
falling raindrops can be
because you are never alone;
you have my words and me
Close your eyes,
listen to the calm of B-minor
and let yourself go
Fall like the rain
I will catch you …~Priya © 2023
I was still complaining, despite her comforting words.
A stitched magic rug
That can let in the raindrops
Dripping in silent rhythms
B-Minor playing but muted
You sleep in a world apart
Yet I feel you so very close
Like you were whispering
Like the steady raindrops
Transforming into B- minor
Soothingly say — Stitch your rug.~Ashok Subramanian © 2023
But her words, solid and comforting were final. I accepted that she liked the cocoon and I liked being the butterfly.
It’s a magic on its own
how we can hear the soothing
notes of music between us
like the soft lull of a still sea,
gentle currents, so patient
waiting for the light of the moon
to comfort anxious waves,
falling asleep and waking up
in unusual times
just to reach for each other’s words
It’s a magic on its own~Priya © 2023
Our torn yet stitched magic rug of love has different meanings to us, but it means a lot to us as poets exchanging verses, but more so as friends who live on opposite sides of the earth.
“O most excellent of carpets,” he said, “O brightest-colored and most delicately woven, whose lovely textile is so cunningly enhanced with magic, I fear I have not treated you hitherto with proper respect. I have snapped commands and even shouted at you, where I now see that your gentle nature requires only the mildest of requests. Forgive, oh, forgive!”
― Diana Wynne Jones
But we both respect our magic rug, for sure.
~Ashok Subramanian © 2023
