Do you begin with what lingers,
the torso, the keeper of form?
Or with the lower limbs
that remember balance?
And when a piece is shattered,
how do you reshape it?
Do you spend the better portion of a life
collecting what was lost,
or do you forge it anew?
And when you mend a fracture,
will the shoulder forget its old pain?
Will the head learn to poise again?
Will the spine recall
the burden of standing?
When you carve it
with the bitter chisel of experience,
will your hands restore the old scars,
or will your fingers mark new lines?
And when the labor is behind you,
with balance returned, the spine persuaded,
will it be as it was?
will it hold?
The Book Of Life 