The Grace that Evening Cannot Touch

Sculpture

It is the grace that evening cannot touch,
To leave one’s mark upon the world,
To shake the words of those who say,
It cannot be done,
All beauty is rumor.

Perhaps the sculptor is a messenger of God.
For, in the years that follow us,
When we, as mortals, are no more,
The likenesses, as sentinels, shall speak
To the future of we, who were,
And stand as the children of the hands
That fashioned them from clay and sand,
Forming them into regents of bronze.

It matters not, the fame or power,
But that they came to be, these statues,
Kings of knowledge, and the common man:
And if their eyes betray a trust,
It is only that the sculptor sang
While he worked.

Perhaps the sculptor is a messenger of God.
For in the years that we have followed.
When we, as mortals, were not – yet,
God made a new Adam
With the grace that evening could not touch.

Author: Virginia Wagner Galfo

These are scary times. Prepare yourself to take a stand for what is right. God damn it, just be kind!

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