Bringing Back the Dead

It cost you two dollars at the auction,
one of those things you buy at the end
when all the good stuff is gone,
and they are basically asking you to pay for the privileged

of taking out the trash.
The brass was dull with dirt, and pitted,
so scarred you could not be certain
if it could be brought back.

But it was interesting. The glass shown amber
in the late afternoon sun. Even the crystals,
one or two of them hanging on for dear life,
the others lying next to it in the box

caught the afternoon light with a yellow promise.
And so, you bought it, and hauled it home
with your other broken treasures
and set it on the workbench, where it waited

as patiently as it had in the half rotted box
in a strangers’s attic.

Until today, when you began it’s restoration,
and to your surprise (for there are always surprises
when bring back the dead),
the brass was solid, it’s heaviness emerging

smooth and rich with polishing. A dab of oil
and the switch came alive, lighting the bulb
solid and bright as when it stood proudly
on the mantles of the rich and foolish.

And then there was the amber glass,
not amber at all, merely tarnished as glass never tarnishes,
yellow with oil and neglect, difficult to clean,
but with each small crystal slowly emerging

from it’s past, a new thing emerged, and
an excitement, that here before your eyes,
as the sinful grime was lovingly washed away,
and one by one, the crystals rehung,

something unexpected suddenly stood before you,
capturing as much light as it created,
sparkling and precious, all the more so
for it’s Resurrection.

About the Poem

I had a good Sunday afternoon today.

I had spent the afternoon rewiring and restoring two lights. One was easy, a floor lamp from the home of the woman I love where some errant critter had lunched on the wires. A couple of splices. A new plug and it was good as new.

This one however, was more of a task. I really did buy it at an auction, but it was cheaper them my poem made it out to be because there were actually two of the lights for a couple of bucks. But as you can see, they were not in the best of shape. In fact, I really didn’t blame the owner for banishing them a box in the barn.

I played Frankenstein in a way, robbing parts from the two lamps to make one. And creating a couple of small parts from scratch to make it all work again. And of course, cleaning and polishing. Oh my the cleaning! The amber glass and crystal that I had thought might be worth saving turned out to be a glass base and crystals. And when I was done, I had the lamp below (I need to find a shade for it, true, but I wanted you to see the bare bones.)

I love restoring things, and so often when I restore things, I am surprised, and it makes me think of our own restoration when things fall apart in our lives, or when people toss us aside because of our brokenness. My experience, with things and with people, is that restoration is almost always possible. And I am thankful that God too, sees, not just our brokenness, but our light, and has the patience to spend time wiping us clean, and letting us shine again.

Tom

PS, the picture below is the “after” shot.