“More than gems in my comb box shaped by the
God of the Sea, I prize you, my daughter . . .”
—Lady Otomo, eighth century, Japan
A woman weaves her daughter’s wedding slippers that will carry her steps into a new life. The mother weeps alone into her jeweled sewing box slips red thread around its spool, the same she used to stitch her daughter’s first silk jacket embroidered with turtles that would bring luck, long life. She remembers all the steps taken by her daughter’s unbound quick feet: dancing on the stones of the yard among yellow butterflies and white breasted sparrows. And she grew, legs strong body long, mind independent. Now she captures all eyes with her hair combed smooth and her hips gently swaying like bamboo. The woman spins her thread from the spool of her heart, knotted to her daughter‘s departing wedding slippers.
Reprinted from Love Works by permission of City Lights Foundation. Copyright © 2002 by Janice Mirikitani. All rights reserved.
“More than gems in my comb box shaped by the
God of the Sea, I prize you, my daughter . . .”
—Lady Otomo, eighth century, Japan
A woman weaves her daughter’s wedding slippers that will carry her steps into a new life. The mother weeps alone into her jeweled sewing box slips red thread around its spool, the same she used to stitch her daughter’s first silk jacket embroidered with turtles that would bring luck, long life. She remembers all the steps taken by her daughter’s unbound quick feet: dancing on the stones of the yard among yellow butterflies and white breasted sparrows. And she grew, legs strong body long, mind independent. Now she captures all eyes with her hair combed smooth and her hips gently swaying like bamboo. The woman spins her thread from the spool of her heart, knotted to her daughter‘s departing wedding slippers.
Reprinted from Love Works by permission of City Lights Foundation. Copyright © 2002 by Janice Mirikitani. All rights reserved.