© 2016 Neal Lett

The Sirens sing in each man’s odyssey,
in every woman’s role as Penelope,
faithful to themselves by all accounts:

old myths woven and those unwoven
memories spun yarn remembers
in the yet unfinished shrouds

in which we cloak ourselves, cast
into the present tense a tick-at-a-time.
No grace reliving past temptations

or heroics, those flashes dimming
with mundane routines of earthly
jobs, of quiet talk with our gods.


3 responses to “GRACE

  1. I am charmed and enamored of any work that makes use of knitting/weaving metaphors and wordplay. What a delightful reflection this rainy Sunday in Ottawa. Here’s to the tick of time and living in the present tense.

    Liked by 1 person

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