Portrait in Linen
The firm and conscious snap of a smooth drape of linen, unscrolling from the bolt like holy words penned and black on the aged pages of a hymnal, an old spiritual rolls in the throat, black eyes cast low along trim folds, glistening pins, steel and sharp like the sting of fire in the soul.
The soles of soft worn shoes brush below slate gray skirts, whispering along the floor like the hush of wings, and the peek of dry hands, arched and aching and soothed on the grain, piecing together straight temple curtains, sound and seamlessly as years fitted at tender hems.
A shroud fashioned of patient silence, natural light, and a portrait of artistry etched in the heart like a grandmother’s maiden name.
- L. ‘Ailina Laranang
February 10, 2004
Servants, obey in all things your masters according to the flesh;
not with eyeservice, as menpleasers; but in singleness of heart, fearing God;
And whatsoever ye do, do it heartily, as to the Lord, and not unto men;
Knowing that of the Lord ye shall receive the reward of the inheritance:
for ye serve the Lord Christ.
Colossians 3:22-24
