Up in my tower that has views down the valley, with pins, needles, and thread,
I weave magic in to the fabric that I lay out on my ironing board.
Creating sacred designs, with Gods, Ancestors, Snakes, Toads, and Hares,
And Piwakawaka whispering in my ear, laying my soul bear.
With fabric, sharp shears, iron, bamboo and interfacing,
I create doorways where spirits, magic and the divine, when invited, come through.
With pins, charms and wool stuffing, I create pillows that induce sacred dreaming,
and witches ladders to keep the not wanted at bay.
With incense, sewing machines, cotton and thread, I dance with the fabric of the divine,
and I will until I am dead
My sewing a sacred act, of offerings and service,
I will my surrender to the whirling of the bobbin, touching the magic,
imbuing the divine,and emboldening the spirit.
Up in my tower with views down the valley, I offer my sewing as a sacred act