Pencils

What Kind of Pencil Are You?

Photo by Karim MANJRA on Unsplash

‘We are all pencils in the hand of God.’ … Mother Theresa

We are all pencils in the hand of God
Some of us are sharp and clean
Eager for the page
Lined up like soldiers in disciplined rows
Uniform
Conformed each to each
Yearning for the good fight
To be of service

We are all pencils in the hand of God
And some of us are dull
Heavy black
Stubby broad-shouldered carpenter’s tools
The straight edge
The scribbled number on scrap wood
Perched on sunburned ears

We are all pencils in the hand of God
And some of us are broken
Unfit
Whole to the eye
But broken inside
Shattered by some ancient fall
Shaved away we fail
And fail again

We are all pencils in the hand of God
And some of us are soft
Deep black
Flowing
Sliding on slippery metallic smears
Easily erased traces
And some of us are hard
Our sharp tips carving furrows
Marking passage with precision
Unworn and unimpressed
Surgical

We are all pencils in the hand of God
Some take to the rainbow
Tangling in chaotic flocks inside dusty pencil cases
Not ‘proper’ in some undefined way
But friends to children
And eager for flights of fancy