WOULDN’T IT BE NICE?

Wouldn’t it be nice

If all the various pieces

In the fabric of our lives

Had smooth, unraveled edges,

Matched by color and material

All used the same kind of fasteners

And the same stitching

With the same color thread

And were laid out precisely

According to an accurate

And well thought out pattern

That matched exactly

The pattern of every other life?

But it’s not so.

The fabric of our lives

Can be silk, cotton, wool,

Linen or even rayon, nylon,

And leather, all in any type,

Any form the weaver or tanner

Can imagine.

The cuts most often will be jagged,

Unpredictable. The edges fraying

And not quite fitting,

In any color of the rainbow,

And in some colors

No rainbow has ever heard of.

In gaudy patterns and prints,

Stripes, tweeds, florals,

Paisleys like drunken paramecia,

In as many textures

As there are textures to dream of.

These disparate swatches

Are held in place

By an infinite variety

Of buttons, clasps, snaps, zippers,

Or by a tailor’s nightmare of stitches

None of which look the same,

And are sewn with thread

Whose colors have no sympathy

For any of the fabrics

They bring together.

And pattern? What pattern?

Our garment seems thrown together

Extemporaneously, on the fly,

To fit a pattern drawn up

Seemingly by a madman

Who had no regard for esthetic,

Form, or function,

And no consideration whether or how

One’s garment would go

With anyone else’s .

Wouldn’t it be nice?

Or maybe not.

Could it be the fabric of our lives

Is meant to be a riot of materials,

Shapes, colors, fasteners, stitching?

Could it be the fit is not meant to

Be exact, but to have holes and open spaces,

Tears, dropped stitches,

And sometimes look like lace

Tatted together by a clumsy child?

Could it be we’re not meant to fit

Another’s garment anywhere near

As neatly or cleanly as we’d like to imagine?

Perhaps we are meant to clash,

Not exactly match, con-FLICT,

And the only way my garment can please,

Or all our garments together

Can look as we think they should

Is if we are willing to step back

And give some perspective.

Then the clashes wouldn’t look so bad,

The imperfect might look interesting

The discordants like they belong,

The complexities making the whole

Look as if it fits,

As if THEY fit together,

And maybe they do,

Even if we don’t realize it.

Wouldn’t it be nice?

Chip Bergeron

August 2