Friday, July 11, 2014

The Sculptor Poses

Be still, Bastet.
Our friends have gone
to some expense
to acquire "something
to remember us by,"
though how a thing so flat,
so smooth, could aid
their memories a whit,
I cannot say.

I could sculpt their souls,
you know, build up each virtue,
gouge out each vice,
carve forgiveness in deep relief,
smooth some with their kindness,
scar others with mistakes.
I could put nobility 
and baseness on display,
covered with a filigree 
of laughter or tears,
the feelings of years.

But if they came to see
with only their eyes,
they would not know themselves.