upper body image of Michelangelo’s "David" from mymodernmet.com
poem submitted to “Obsession” poetry contest, Seth Pina, sponsor, May 2, 2026.
I stand before the marble block, its cold breath waiting. Others see stone~ I see the boy already turning his head toward light. My hands ache with the old obsession: to free the form God hid inside, to follow the faintest curve of muscle as if it were scripture. Day after day I listen for the whisper beneath the hammer’s strike~ the pulse of a shoulder, the tension of a tendon preparing to rise. The body is a language, and I must carve every syllable true. Patience becomes my companion. I chip, I smooth, I kneel, studying the marble as though it might breathe if I only learn its secret. I chase the form as pilgrims search for the sacred~ aware it forever retreats into light yet unable to stop searching. When, at last, the dust settles, when David’s gaze finally lifts toward the giant only he can see, I feel the quiet truth: I did not create him. I merely uncovered what had been waiting for someone stubborn enough to believe it was there.
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