Wood Carving

Wood Carving He sits there, not quite motionless, for even the comfortable must alter their perception occasionally, frozen stare upon a craggy visage, tiny fox-like predator eyes peering into your soul. “What are his origins?” ask the bespectacled intellectuals. “Who is he?” and “Why has he taken up his unwelcome residence here?” The buses pass carrying workers, students, captains of industry. They look at him but they do not see him. The children see him. Wonder in their dreams how he came to be. Some want to be rid of him. They have no reason, no justification for alarm, nothing to warrant their uneasiness. One daring young lady sat beside him, whispered a secret to him, both shook with laughter. Passersby were startled to see the interaction and summoned the the childs mother. “What have you taught her that makes her think that she can do such things?” They asked. The young lady tried to speak but was hushed by the serious looks she was getting from the adults. That evening at bed time the young lady’s mother asked her: “What did you say to him?”. “I said: ‘You look like grandpa.”. The mother sat back, quieting a tear, and reminded the young lady that her Grandpa was no longer here. “I know, Mommy”. She said. Well then, what did “he” say to you?” The young lady sat up in bed and smiled “He said that he was there every day, and any time I wished to sit with him and read to him it would be fine.” “Mommy”, she said, “do you remember grandpa”? “You know …how his face was all rough, and his hands hard and spidery, and how he would like it when I sat with him and read?” The tear that had been held “quiet” made a sound, ran down the mother’s face as she hugged her daughter and put her to bed. The next day mother and daughter walked to the old tree, felt the roughness of his face, touched his spidery thin branches, sat with him – and read. Soon others came to visit, sitting and whispering, laughing and reading. for they know who he is, what his origins are, why “he” waits so patiently. John G. Lawless 9/27/2014 For PD's WHATEVER - Poetry Contest