Grandmother’s Gift

I cannot knit
but sit
with the weight
of worked love
in my hands.
Fingers travel time
taken and given
in stitches soft
as the breath
of life embraced.

From the first day
a kiss
of warmth
in woven bonds.
Strong and safe
as hands
tied in years and yarn
to know
joy’s effort endures
our memories.

© Emma Cooke 2013

This poem was written for my mum but I’d also like to dedicate it to my friend Jules who made me look at it in a totally different way. What started out as a poem about love and joy is also a poem about love and loss.

The poem is about how my relationship with my mother changed after the birth of my son. I wanted to write about the moment I realised this – when I was holding a cardigan she knitted for him. The cardigan for me was a symbol of love and commitment.