One day a child will hold these blocks
crafted by hands that held a guilt I will never know
and when they ask about the man who made them
someday they will know as much of the truth of who you are
as any of us can know hiding behind the trauma
but for now they will know of your reverence for nature
and your hands that preserved what they now hold
hands that could turn dead oak into masterpieces
hands that turned twisted wood into cherished pieces of beauty
spending himself to carve away the misshapen parts
and in your rest, I hope you can do the same to your worn heart