I say I don’t believe in fate,
except I do. It threads
through every life I cross:
Each tangled thread a knot–a cross
I freely bear. One fate
composed of sundry threads.
I weave a tapestry of threads,
of knotted strings; I cross
my fingers, trust in fate.
If fate decides which threads to cut or cross, how glad I am she knotted mine to yours.
Yes, it’s another tritina. I can stop anytime. Really. I mean it.
Christine Hanolsy 
This was lovely!
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Thank you! I am really enjoying this form.
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Well let’s not find out, ok? I love reading these – it’s something about the rhythm and the unexpected twists in word meanings I think. Your use of “cross” is especially wonderful.
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Thanks, Silverleaf! There’s something about the form that really appeals to me. Next time I may up the ante and try a sestina.
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You should! I’m sure it would be amazing 🙂
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