"Making is the mirror in which we see ourselves." -- Frank Bidart

What is a man when he has nothing to show

for the labor of hands? When there is nothing

to point to; nothing to show and to say

That is mine. I made that? Even when,

in the best of all worlds, all any body can expect

is a polite smile, a slight nod, the way one does

when amusing panhandlers or small children—only

to walk faster and ignore, face a little more forward

so’s not to have to consider the similarity

in another man’s desperation or a small child’s tantrum

to the face he saw in the mirror earlier that day.

 

I think of my grandfather the carpenter—

the smell of industry and saw dust;

the grit under his nails that he scraped out

each evening with a pocket knife. No words of his

come to mind. Only the evidence of things he made.

Because when a man makes, he does not have to speak;

the thing speaks for him and for itself. Then

I think about my hands: unmeasured, unqualified,

making nothing that speaks, nothing that justifies

or explains how I have spent these 35 years.

Author's Note

Any comments welcome.

Reviews

[angelina neves]

ummmmmmm... i supose that even when we just sit down and smile there is the mirror smiling at us - and this world needs much more smiles the "things" that speak! :)
nice poem!

[Brian Custer]

Isn't a pen, just as laborious as say a hammer and chisel? You have to carve away at the knots and plane out the rough edges. You know I never took wood shop while in high school, I don't know if you did, however, I did quite a bit of work with wood in custom homes these last several years. Yes, it feels great creating, that table, those chairs, the things that could last quite a long time, but what about your writing, that may last exponentially longer. It doesn't suffer the maelstroms of time the same ways! I like the comparison to your grandfather, it reminds me of mine and the last thing he ever told me - 'Never tell anyone you have any money, cause they will only want it from you' - not that it is quite pertinent here, just a memory.