I found a carving in the wood

I found a carving in the wood,
   a pedestal where something stood. 

A statue must have been right here,

   its placement had been very clear.

But now this pedestal was bare

   and statue which was carved with care

was now cast off and on the ground

   under leaves and grass around

its form so it was barely seen. 

   I stooped down now and tried to clean

debris away so I could see

   what had been and what will be.

Dead leaves, wild grass, pulled and plucked

   brushed away so I now looked

at stone now in the light of sun,

   its lines and grooves forming some

image now in my mind

   of fingers that were intertwined. 

I brushed off more and saw an arm,

   its wrist embraced with carven charm.

The form now clear a woman lay

   framed by grass and roots that stay

clinging to her female form

   in ways that seemed now to adorn,

like woven garments, nature made

   now for my eyes in woods displayed.

but something did but seem awry

   twists and contorts caught my eye

should a real arm lay this way

   what did this artist seek to say? 

Those fingers still were intertwined

   I cleared some more so I could find

what lay beneath nature's shield

   in hidden wood, in long-lost field. 

I grabbed a mass of root and vine

   and once pulled back I saw the grime

from mud and muck and trails of worms

   which slid across these carven forms. 

What I now saw seemed grotesque

   as if the artist did detest 

these models from which he must have carved

   these two hideous and starved

creatures which now before me lie

   did the artist even try? 

Or was this the point for which he sought

   to twist and deform as he wrought

and carved and chipped away at stone

   to make an image that was one

in which I stood in horror now

   beholding scene of painful bow

beneath a weight of unseen trial

   that crushed these two beyond denial. 

The dirt and grime I brushed aside

   worms and mud, old roots I plied 

away from stone so more I'd see

   of what this spectacle could be. 

As I cleared nature away

  revealed now stone to sun's bright ray

and plucked away those final twigs

   I pondered now something big.

Could I now with all my might

   set these two back up aright? 

and place them on their pedestal

   restored, returned before their fall? 

I plotted and I then heaved to

   with levered strength in what lead to

a twist a turn and then a grunt, 

   drops of sweat, give up I won't. 

And one last surge of strength divine

   these two were back, but now I find

one more thing that I must do

   to finish task and make things new. 

I turned now to a fountain near

  water trickling down so clear

from ancient stone which had been struck

   to sustain life while on a trek

to promised land so long ago. 

   A rag I dipped beneath the flow

and dripping with the water clear

   I turned and cleaned off the first ear

then a chin and down that arm

   around the fingers and the charm. 

Across a back and down to feet

   between each toe my rag did meet

every crease and crack and nook

   I stood back now to take a look

and what now did my eyes behold

   a different story than I'd told. 

What seemed to me as pain before

   now looked like love that each had for

the other one it now was plain

   that though some trauma did remain

these two weren't wretched as it seemed

   but now revealed as I'd cleaned

my view had changed from before

   and now I saw what it was for.

The pedestal in ancient wood

  was granite hand on which they stood,

when cast off from its firm embrace,

   it looked like pain upon each face,

but now returned within that grip

   each now appeared with word on lip

that seemed to say by artist's skill

   "I love you now, I always will, 

because he loved us from the start,

   and in his grip, we'll never part."

In awe I stood at artist's hand

  that could with skill and careful plan,

create a scene that untrained eye

   would perceive dread and want to die, 

but with an eye trained by His book,

   a better eye could take a look

and see the beauty held within,

   though a tragedy had been

and the art did not ignore 

   these tragic things these faces wore

the end result was very clear

   these two knew Jesus and held him dear.