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| Finlandia |
Sitting at
the loom, she tried to mentally organize her raging thoughts. The land belonged
to her and yet it was being taken from her. She grew up in this farm, she
worked the land with her father, she helped with the house chores, and she knew
the pack of wolves that visited her since childhood and that never killed one
of her animals, the generations of feral cats. Woven in her soul was the sound
of the wind whispering at the edge of the forest where she used to wait for the
wolves, “sit where I can still see you”, her father demanded. This was her past
and her present. They were stealing her future away. The land would be ripped
open by a highway. At least they wouldn’t go into the forest; it was “too
expensive”. The wolves would be ok. Sitting at the loom, she wove one last blanket
for the cats that walked in and out of her house where the door was always
open. In the city, the cats would have warmth, food and love. Yes, they would. “The
six of us, we’ll be unwilling prisoners of a world we don’t belong to with
woven memories keeping us alive.”
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