Poem - The Four Seamstresses

The Seamstress from the west

Sewed a tapestry of beauty

On it laid a beautiful maiden

Striking blue eyes

And beautiful blonde hair.

No one ever saw it

Until it was ripped from her hands

Her death a crescendo of silence

And the museum in which her tapestry was placed in

Ended the silence too late.

The seamstress from the east

Sewed a tapestry of love

Adorned with friendly animals,

A tenderness of life.

People loved it

But only made passing remarks.

You can find the panda from it

On a tshirt with sunglasses on the modern market.

The seamstress from the North

Sewed a tapestry of abstractness

Surreal shapes and faces

On a vague landscape

She’s still alive

And she continues her work

But no one has ever seen it

And no one has ever cared

Finally, the seamstress from the South

Inside her laid a tapestry of pain

Every day was a task of survival

Her hope slain.

She never had a sewing machine, she could never make art

And the tapestry of her pain, emerged from out of her heart.

It wrapped around her neck, and ended her life.

Leaving her in silence, no one cared about her strife.