The Artist

I love the stroke of a fine detailed brush 
On a slick sheet of canvas 
Displaying the details of 
Not a nightmare or a paradise dream 
But of two hands tilted towards heaven, 
Body kneeling before the Lord,

Or of a stone carver whittling the details 
Of an arbitrary mass of half dealt- 
With rock, an etched-out eagle about to fly, 
Showing off the wingspan yet still attached 
To a mighty boulder—the unfinished rock 
It sits upon—untouched by human hands, 
The rock of Truth, guided silky smooth 
By tumbled waters, ne’er touched 
Or crafted by human hands. 
I’d love to paint these things.

It’s an age-old issue, whether to paint 
At all or to prefer the stone 
Carving trade where reality of manmade 
Efforts is ne’er lost because 
The object at hand remains 
An object of God, 
An unturned stone, now turned 
And tussled with—a shared creation. 
I’d love to stone carve.

It’s an age-old issue, whether to paint 
Or carve at all or to just pray 
Whether to kneel with hands clasped. 
And Jesus taught us to pray, 
“Our Father who art in Heaven, 
Hallowed be thy name. 
Thy kingdom come, Thy will be 
Done on earth as it is in heaven …” 
Yet to sink one’s feet into the grass 
On a knoll under a lively 
Aged tree and to choose our 
Own words—a work of art. 
I’d love to pray.

Related prayer - The Lord's Prayer

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