The Loom

To our third grade eyes
the first sight of that loom when we entered the classroom
made it seem as if it was a Gordian Knot,
something incomprehensible,
as a computer would have been to a Neanderthal.

Our teacher, a short, round middle age woman
who captured our hearts and minds with her inspiring tales,
she made us think we could do the impossible,
vowing to unravel this strange and mysterious device,
with all its maze of strings,
our gaze so wide, our mouths a gaping resonance of "oooh's,"
when she showed us the rug this marvel could create.

Such detailed patterns were woven intricately into its fibers,
making it all the more incredible a creation,
then she shocked us all by declaring
how we would together
take this device of strand and string
and produce our own threaded treasure.

Every thought voiced intently on her word
while she described its use in such simple ways,
but then took our fingers and gently guided them through its uses.
One by one, we each took turns,
day after day watching it slowly become a crafted gem,
until at last it was finished and then hung on the wall for all to see.

It wasn't the Olympics, nor a homecoming game,
we didn't end with medals, nor awards of which to brag,
but in our lives she wove the thread of confidence
to believe in ourselves,
creating a garment within that lasted a life time.