Finds release in work,
each slicing of wood
a cracking open of hurt;
brokenness.
Finds rest in exertion,
each movement of
the body a comfort;
assurance.
Finds redemption in repetition,
each swing backward,
then forward, a liberation;
forgiveness.
Finds regeneration in sweat,
each drop salting, cleansing
brow, face, back, chest, heart;
baptism.
This poem is part of the Random Act of Poetry hosted by The High Calling.
Photograph: Stacked Wood by Brunhilde Reining via Public Domain Pictures. Used with permission.
16 comments:
I like your use of parallelism here. It adds power to the thing.
And the hope, threaded through...
This reminds me of my dad, and all the benefits that come from physical exertion...and the chopping of the trees that sometimes get in the way of relationship. Love this catalog poem!
Finding rest in exertion.
That line really struck a chord with me.
Redemption in repetition....
That speaks to discipline for me!
Thaere is always more to our labors if we are attentive and this piece gives instruction to that. Like the structure.
very nice! my hubby would agree to that. love the relation to baptism
thank you
I liked the idea of finding redemption in repetition. Sometimes physical work really does that for me.
I don't know why, but this just makes me happy... Thanks Glynn.
I'm with David and LL on the redemption in repetition. So often I found faith again in simply going through the motions of faith (prayer, worship, Bible reading) even when those motions initially feel empty or forced. Repetition is good...for physical and spiritual rewards.
The act of physical labor is cleansing to the soul, I think. Probably part of the reason so many struggle with the blues is that we've become such a sedintary socieity.
Great poetry, Glynn.
this is...
beautifully expressed.
one can appreciate
the work put into things
like a lovely hay stack
or wood stacked together
all even and pretty.
those things are art to me.
Oh, very very good.
Makes me want to go get that saw (we cut small trees with a saw rather than big ones with an axe).
I love chopping wood...and this poem!
There's a reason people used to go chop wood when they were angry ... at least that's what I've been told.
I love this, maybe because I do find rest in exertion, peace in repetition. I need to read this poem whenever I feel the squeeze of stress or find myself far from God. It would say to me, "Go and work out your anxiety. Merge your movements with the inner voice you hear, calling you home." Beautiful work, Glynn.
Oh Glynn, this is great. I had no idea that someone else feels the same way about splitting firewood. I love it. It is my favorite part of autumn, both for the sake of fall as a season and for the reminders of man's ineptness without Christ.
In the days following 9/11, I split all the firewood (4 cords) that year. I didn't know the Lord yet and I was wrought with fear and anger and frustration. The sweat and subsequent pain in my wrists and back felt good, even though by the end I was wrapping my wrists with duct tape. I refused to let my husband help. He dragged the logs and sawed them and I split.
Throughout the winter, I will think of you by your fire too.
Blessings.
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