Hands that hammer
Wood and stone
A heart that persists
To drive nails home
No matter what the weather Gods decide
forge wrinkles into his hide
and blisters.
The process is difficult
Fraught with doubt that can crumble
at any minute
But somehow the craftsman
Draws it out
Not realising
That the stone
The wood
The surface he tortures
Has the last laugh
Who is hammering who?
The universe whispers
Who is moulding who?
and the toughened timber
full of sighs and blows
the stone that has laid
undisturbed
for centuries
heave a warning cry
“As you reveal me
I will reveal you“
And they do
*Chris is a sculptor. I caught up with him on the week-end. Stole a few photos.
I could just as easily write this poem for my husband, my sons, or anyone who labours in the harsh Australian climate.
Doing hard things, creating, toiling, persisting – leaves its own mark on hearts and souls. This poem is my attempt to jot that insight down. And it doesn’t only apply to physically difficult pursuits because so often these require mental exertion, spiritual extension, which does the same thing. Keep striving.
More photos from this shoot are on my Flickr (on my front page and yes, WordPress hasn’t updated it in ages but if you click the link it will take you through to the current albums). There is also a post on day 34 of my Instagram (the photo challenge continues).
