The Umbilical Art

Her dusky, beautiful hand

moves here and there;

and with every little progress

follows the string of threads

Like a falcon

on a smooth flight,

She flings

every night.

She brings all the colors

by netting all the fibers

to make one shield

in such a rapid swindle.

A shield, she crafts so beautifully,

to protect her precious being

from the coldness

of the world outside;

She chooses fiber

that is pleasant to touch,

To provide all the comfort

to the fragile one.

Laid in front of her

are colorful balls of yarn,

She picks up each color

with sheer attentiveness

to give the shield

its beautiful end.

As Van Gogh and Picasso

must have done to imprison

all the colors in a single frame.

Her fingers, too, in motion

like an artist – with the same curiosity

But in different form.

The needles she uses

Is like a weapon-

To fight all the probabilities of danger

that would come in the near future.

She zigzags them like the snakes

in the hands of the curator.

She fondles every string

and follows step-by- step

the techniques -to make it look like

as it was always meant for

the being, on the earth

she is about to bring;

She knits every sweater

intertwining all the colors

with the umbilical cord of love.