Beneath the Shroud

Beneath the shroud
the sculptor works.

Noise, the sound of hammers
and grinding fill the day.

There are flashes of light,
tantalizing and magical.

And you an see, almost
what is happening,

enough to guess,
but rarely enough to know.

About this poem

I used to have a pastor who constantly reminded us “If you knew what the person next to you was going through, you’d be a lot kinder.” I think there is truth to that. What we see of the people around us is just a hint of who and what they are,

The picture was taken in Washington, DC, just outside the National Gallery’s modern art wing. I have no idea what it will be when they are done. It’s a great tease!

Tom