Vanish, invisible mending – a poem I found

While cycling in New Zealand recently I found this poem in a delightful little book about the local area. Reading through it, I found it really hit a chord with me.  The book was one of many available for visitors to flick though in one of the guest houses (Tiger Hill Lodge) we stayed in, probably to help showcase the area we were cycling through.

The book was Parallel Lines, Riding the Central Otago Rail Trail.  Poetry by Anne Villiers and Paintings by John Z Robinson. It was full of beautiful poems and paintings of the local area of Omakau.

This poem was set out exactly as I have reproduced it below.  It was this, combined with the words, that had such an impact on me.

Invisible Mending

This is the place where souls come

To be mended                                 where

Tatty ends of unfinished business

Or business                           unravelled

Are drawn together and          tenderly

Made new.

Nimble stitches

Seen                  only by the weaver

Whose loving                      fingers

Repair the frangible fabric of lives

On reflection, the poem sums up my journey from being miserable and broken as a result of being made redundant, the ensuing ‘fight’ to save our jobs and onto the ‘mending’ of my unfinished business by cycling the rail trail.  The physical and mental aspect of the cycling trip, the good friends we travelled with and the changing scenery all aided in repairing my soul.

My despair vanished and I returned home with my sparkle firmly back in place.  This is a lovely example of serendipity and finding solace in words and pictures in a totally unexpected way. I hope you can you see what I’m trying to say here.

Thank you to everyone involved! Happy me

Written in response to the Daily Post’s prompt of Vanish.

Debbie 🙂

12 Replies to “Vanish, invisible mending – a poem I found”

  1. I do see what you are trying to say and the poem resonates with me too as I contemplate possibly doing the journey again following a diagnosis of incurable cancer. Isn’t it marvelous how different people see different things in poetry.

    Liked by 1 person

    1. Thanks for your lovely comment. I’m sorry to hear of your diagnosis and wish you well. I agree with you about poetry and how everyone sees things differently. All the best to you.

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  2. I “feel” you. Don’t you just love it when the unexpected happens, and it’s just the thing you didn’t know you needed from a random source? Bravo for stopping and opening and allowing healing to happen. You asked in earnest, and received in earnest. Win-win. Happy Holidays!!!

    Liked by 1 person

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