Vision in Stone

Paul stands, mallet in hand

and eyes the ancient chunk of rock

He sees an angel in the stone

And chips away at all that’s not

And we watch his sweating work

And we see the pieces fall

And we try to build some logic

From the gravel on the floor

But we miss the angel rising from the pounded piece of stone

We prefer to grasp the sculptor’s sturdy tools

And press them to our modern uses

But they blister softer hands and souls

And we walk away, frustrated

While the angel weeps, alone.

(My response to Romans 5)