Dear woodworker,

a word of advice

There is a feeling.

Tattered

plastic bag caught in the wind;

black outlawed plastic.

They give groceries in paper bags now.

Human worth is like a wooden cradle

Carved, by hand

But slowly, tediously so

Caressed and polished, finished

By a process lasting less than half the life it lives.

They say put love in all the things you do

And they will carry love into their doing

You wouldn’t carve a cradle with a nail, would you?

Some do.

My advice to you, woodworker

Approach your work with gentle hand

Gather bags and bags of patience

‘Fore you waken for your job

Unpack it bit by bit and wrap carefully away

the rest

You’ll need it later, I profess.

For when it’s wasted all at once, and your rushed hand gives way to foolish faults

you become not the victim of your slip,

Rather a lousy master of your skill.

Your burden sits in front of you

With teary toddler eyes

And wonders what deserved the scratch you left upside its neck,

The crooked leg on which it stands,

The shriek it makes when rocked too hard.

It’s better you push on

with battered hands

Your skin is tough, easy to heal.

Your work lives on far past your wound

And recalls the hand that shaped it.

For a cradle tipped, is broken

Not by the one who pushed it

But by the one who carved its leg amiss.

My advice to you woodworker,

When you carve your cradles, do so gently.

Reviews

[Richard simpson]

Great message in such a densely compacted poem. It expresses the other worldly struggle of a woodworker who has torn a hole in the heart of his child's world. Great poem.

[Alisa]

thank you RIchard! I'm glad you liked it

[Abby]

all should read this! very moved, thank you