Arpilleras
For Marjorie Agosín, By Lorna Shaugnessy
"...Stripped of their truths, like Philomena
they chose to tell each story with their hands -
rose early to put in an hour with scissors and thread
before readying the house for another working day;
met weekly in Churches, hands clammy
with the cold sweat of conspiracy and fear,
smuggling their stitched witness in closed umbrellas,
tucked under coats, folded up sleeves.
The vivid patch of grass in that garden scene
is the sleeve of a daughter’s dress; the blue
of a son’s favourite shirt gives innocence back to a sky
like the one where the sun shone the last time she saw him. ..."
