Golden Thread

I know you feel angry
I felt angry too

I know you feel rage
I felt her fire too

I know you feel hopeless. Battered. Pinned down.
Ripped open and left wrecked on the floor.

I know the shame. The guilt.
Wondering if it was your own
fault. Knowing very well it was not.

Hold on

even if your hands tremble with fear
your eyes cannot see. Your ears
refuse to hear and the taste of repulsion
smother your lips. Still – you hold on.

Onto the golden thread.

Our eyes meet in this line
and we both know you believe nothing.
Even if you do not conceive gold,
nevertheless thread-

you hold on.

When all your will has gone
and your body tells you nothing will ever matter

then you hold on with every ounce
of your being- for one day

you will rise and your soul
will meet your self. Recognition
vibrating in your bones. Silently
with no need to speak

you will have strength,
you will pick up the pieces.

Gently you will put yourself back together

with golden thread.

And those parts ravished- you
will hold kindly, infusing compassion.

Your hands will bleed.
For yourself. For your body.
For all those who picked themselves up
before you and those who will after you.

In that moment the golden thread
will open up. You will have the courage to step in.

Completely broken.
Completely whole.


– A Tribute to Rose.

© Ansa Smit, 2 February 2013.


2 thoughts on “Golden Thread

  1. I’m deeply moved by this courageous and hopeful poem.
    It rouses in me huge anger and softness and opening and self-protectiveness – a chaos of responses.
    And then, the gentleness and strength of the golden thread.
    Thank you for sharing it.


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