I sit at my Bernina, a fancy new
sewing machine, stitching a straight seam.
Yards and yards of green stretch out before
me, a hundred percent cotton path.
It’s not a wedding gown I sew, nor
a baby’s christening gown, nor
a quilt with complicated stitching. Today
I sew, not for fun, but because I ought.
Nine by six-inch rectangles, quarter inch
elastic, to make the recommended
face masks. Can I make a difference?
I’ll never know. Pandemics don’t answer.
In this time of despair,
every mask is a prayer.
Trish Miller loves words as friends and playmates. She began writing in fourth grade but only recently started writing poetry as a way to share thoughts, emotions, beliefs and occasional humor beyond her family. A graduate of Saint Mary College, Leavenworth, she has written instructional materials, retreats, and guided reflections.
May Editor Maril Crabtree’s book Fireflies in the Gathering Dark was named a Kansas Notable Book for 2017.
The Coop: A Poetry Cooperative 
Beautiful poem and I love the ending!