I’m not the great mind or the brilliance that surrounds me. I’m an Electrolux. A Cuisinart. A rough chop.
I’m not an Olympic sculler. I don’t slice through the water with grace, with ease, with yeomanlike efficiency. My boat lurches left and right. I’m not first but I’m in the race.
I’m not a woodchopper. Yet I chop. When I miss, the vibration shudders – rattles my teeth, my bones and that of others. Yet, the tree will come down.
I’m not at ease in crowds. I am not graceful. I can be awkward. I prefer the solitude. Yet, like a journeyman, I do what I need to do.
I’m not Rodin or Donatello. Will never be. Yet, I hammer. And I hammer. And, it will, yes it will, bend my way.
I’m not your kind and gentle soul. Not a first glance. And not quickly. But if you are with me, I will be there. And if you’re in trouble, you’ll want me in your corner.
I’m not…yet I am.