Flax

“FLAX” the label on the back
of the white linen nightgown
full-length, pure-white
three bone buttons along
front neckline opening.

Bought ever-so-many years ago
worn regularly during all seasons
washed and sun-dried, weather permitting.

I loved that nightgown
spacious, sturdy, yet lightweight,
this garment, perfect attire, embraced me
to welcome rest into dreamtime.

Yesterday, I notice a tear.
elongated, irreparable,
along the neckline.

Ceremoniously, almost piously,
I cut the linen into featherweight
squares, rags, transformed
lovingly into their next service.

I fold, touch each small part
recognize its entirety, even
in change, each holds an essence
of its former existence.

Now, resting in a drawer
next to more sturdy kitchen towels
these servants, recall former use,
nestle comfortably into their companions

Today, I write in appreciation
of warmth afforded me in the past,
the intimacy of shared sleep
in the comfort of white linen
fostering well-cradled dreamtime.

A new nightgown, my companion.
pale satin sheen, holds me well
and likely will for many years.
Maybe for all those nights remaining.

Until I transform into another realm
leave my words as well-worn threads
of comfort for those who held me
during their reveries.

Illia Thompson
March 2017