"What Web Was Woven?" by Tricia Knoll, Frequent Contributor

What Web Was Woven?

Tricia Knoll

What chain of circumstance

or bad mistake

slipped a stitch?

I breathe the smog of China.

Mongolia’s winds blow gold sand

to dust my garden.

An Iranian woman writes fourteen lines of poetry.

I read them the next morning online.

I can’t explain this.

So connected

in a web frayed

to tatters.

Poet's Notes:  We are not spiders. We don't spin webs but we humanists talk like we do, as if there is an interconnectedness among people that transcends race and differences. Then one shot from a gun, one more suicide bombing and the web we hope for seems frayed and tattered. On the west coast we do get the dust winds of Mongolia and China coming our way. We are so close on a fragile planet.