if i were a screwdriver...
i would aim to keep my edge. i would seat myself firmly in the screw and torque evenly, so as not to slip out of my groove and strip the head. i would dedicate my existence to it, being there for the screws: making sure they can all remain firmly seated, so that none work their way loose, to be lost forever. i would watch over them and make them my responsibility and i would find my honor in that.
i would pray at night that the hands that held me would honor me. i know sometimes a screwdriver is used to pry up a lid... or chip away at something with a hammer. i know sometimes they are used to shimmy locks or punch holes or to break something apart.
you can tell when you see them. they are twisted, gouged, and bent ever so slightly... just enough that they no longer quite seat; they slip from the groove. they are passed over for another. they are discarded. they are lost. they are forgotten.
oh what desires are there for a tool other than to be used with respect and good purpose?
1 comment:
Brother! I wonder often, often wonder about what you are doing, how youre feeling and what you are thinking in that limitlessly creative mind of yours. I am procrastinating packing for hong kong and I was magically drawn to your blog because I forgot i could read all the answers to my curiosities and wonderment(context?) on this strange portal of the internet. I have so much to share and so much to ask...I cant believe life goes on with our petty LA stresses while you are in the muddy desert doing much more noble things. Please write...I hope you recieved your small bday gift...I am reading the same book in Hong Kong this week...
LOVE AND HUGS AND LOVE AND HUGS!
sis
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