The poem “Flannel and Cherubim Fabrics” resonates deeply with me, weaving a philosophical reflection on my struggle to define my authentic self against the soft, suffocating threads of cultural expectation. I feel culture stitching my soul with “soft and fuzzy fabrics” of flannel—warm, feminine, cozy—yet these threads leave my heart anxious, my true essence buried beneath their weight. This imagery mirrors Jean-Paul Sartre’s existentialist warnings about society’s power to drown my authenticity in conformity. The flannel’s comforting, patterned texture feels like Nietzsche’s herd morality, lulling me into a passive acceptance that stifles my individuality. My spirit, confined by these cultural patterns, aches for liberation, yearning to break free and express who I truly am.
In a moment of defiance, I snatch the sewing fabric from culture’s hands, reclaiming my agency in a way that echoes existentialist ideas of radical freedom. I refuse to be boxed by flannel’s cozy constraints, choosing instead to hand the fabric to cherubim—divine beings of wisdom and strength. In Christian tradition, cherubim bear the faces of eagle, lion, bull, and human, symbolizing vision, courage, resilience, and insight. By entrusting my soul to their hands, I seek a transformation beyond the reach of human culture, one guided by a higher, divine truth. This act reflects my longing to escape societal norms and discover a self that aligns with my deepest, most authentic desires.
The poem’s transformation unfolds as I cast off the “feminine and warm” identity culture imposed on me, embracing a “masculine and peculiar” self woven with “eagle, lion, and bull characteristic strands.” This shift feels like Carl Jung’s individuation, where I integrate powerful archetypes to become whole. The “masculine” isn’t about gender but about strength and assertiveness, while “peculiar” marks me as unique, akin to Kierkegaard’s knight of faith, standing apart through my connection to the divine. My new countenance—bold, visionary, steadfast—rejects flannel’s passive softness, embodying a dynamic, self-authored identity that stands firm against cultural pressures.

The metaphor of sewing runs through my reflection, symbolizing how my identity is crafted. Flannel, with its cozy yet limiting texture, represents the seductive comfort of fitting in, but it chokes my spirit. In contrast, the cherubim’s strands weave a vibrant, multifaceted self, echoing Plato’s view of the soul as a composite shaped by the forces I allow to guide it. When I give “free will” to the cherubim, I surrender to a divine creative power, trusting it to stitch a truer version of me. This surrender carries the mystical weight of Meister Eckhart’s teachings, where my soul seeks its divine source. My transformation feels like providence, a purposeful guidance reshaping my inner and outer self.
Ultimately, “Flannel and Cherubim Fabrics” challenges me to reject the “softness” and “cosy flannel texture” of culture, which Stoic philosophers like Marcus Aurelius might call a trap of complacency. By becoming a “masculine and peculiar man,” I embrace resilience and self-mastery, capable of withstanding societal norms. The poem weaves existentialist, Jungian, Stoic, and mystical insights, urging me to seize control of my soul’s fabric and trust a higher power to craft an authentic self. My journey is one of courage and transcendence, stitching an identity that’s uniquely mine—strong, visionary, and unyielding against culture’s comforting but confining patterns.














