Sculpting Relationships Poem by Long Tooth

We all are artists in a way and sculpt relationships
That daily join our fledgling lives, like passengers on ships,
The beggar you don't give a dime, friend calls (you haven't time?) ,
A-poem-panting-to-be-born's a gift that you can't rhyme?

Smooth stone just waiting to be skipped, (that you pass by)feels blue,
Sun's child, a cloud (protruding tongue) , will you ignore it too?
The hopeless wait for master's touch, would practice hurt so much?
The tools required are close at hand, a smile works in a clutch!

It's not a crime if all your art is not a masterpiece,
Consider! Flowers, "gift from God, " can cause her tears to cease.

Do you owe nothing to the clay that's half-formed on your table,
Mother who sequestered dreams in order to enable
Yours? Advantage, check, and match! She sculpts a child she hopes will hatch,
And blossom on its parent's grave, though it might start from scratch.

The blowing off of unmet needs might put your soul in danger
(If a lack of empathy is what Christ gets!)God's stranger
That you just pass by - a bum? Christ brother, yet he's no alum?
His skin's off-white, poor countenance, you're proud he's not your chum?

Oh, practice is the heart of art, God grant that you'll keep trying,
A humble servant God admires, the pride we crave our dying!


Long Tooth
August 28,2018