SCULPTING MY LIFE
It's a crude thing, a work in progress,
with rude knotholes and strangely running grain
that causes me distress and drives me insane,
but it is the raw material I was born with,
so I strain to release the form locked inside,
and though I am driven and no matter how hard I've tried,
I can't see through the dense gnarls and twisted burls
to the spirit that they hide.
Instead, I've spent my time sawing, planing, smoothing and sanding
to someone else's specifications
and have only, just now, begun to understand the ramifications:
the closest I've come to authenticity
is a rudely fashioned, wooden me.
I'm a carpenter without a plan
as I toil again and again,
and the grand design escapes me.
Yet, whatever comes of my search,
the struggle to free what is really me
may be enough,
for that struggle is holy,
and whatever I may become
is greater stuff.
Frank Fetters