I saw you take a piece of wood from the sea.
A gift, perhaps,
a wave-worn gesture
a letter the earth wrote because it has time.
And the way you held it
like you could see what it would have been
if you saw it tomorrow, or next week.
Sometimes I wonder what side of the Atlantic I’m on
or if it matters. And what will drift to this shore
I think that if the earth chooses to bathe its relics
to a certain shape—
to craft, to forge, refine
then are we the makers, really,
because of how we hold them?
Joshua R. Wood believes in art as an expression of the nature of the True Artist who made the world, and hopes his life will echo the nature of the Creator which loves to rebuild and redeem broken things. The most important things to him are his relationship with Jesus Christ, his wife, his family and friends, his two dogs, nature in general, and a great Imperial Stout, in that order.