Loom

His was the hand 

that wove me into you 

and you into me.

We are all 

so many branches

so many winds

so many ripples 

spreading out.

I do not know how 

to unravel these tangles

 in which we are caught,  

I do not know

why you were placed here

and not there,

how this mess of color 

in the middle 

is somehow we and us 

and where we are.

All I know is the movement 

of the shuttle

as it winds in and out,

beneath you

and over me,

knitting together

and pulling apart, 

how it is in this hand

that we 

live 

move

have being

consist

and are held together.