It was a mistake to have picked up that chiselI was tired with a great lack of sleepMy favorite tool was jagged, nicked and dullAnd about to get in trouble deep.But with nothing else I’d rather doCarving was what I had plannedDown in the mess of my small workshopI took that tool in fated handCarving Rules: First thing, stay alertAnd keep all tools safe from harm.My first clue should have been the bloodWhich was dripping down my armAt first I thought that all was wellThough I struggled with every chipAnd it’s funny how I knew it was comingBefore I even felt the damned tool slip.Today’s carving would be delayedI’d put the chisel through my palmAnd looking down on the ghastly sightI wondered why I was so calm
twitching to and fro with my pulseThe chisel danced, as if to mock meTo leave it in or pull it outBecame a question of some urgencyNow what would you do if you were meWith a chisel stuck in your handCall for help, perhaps seek first aid?But You’d have to be me to understand.Of course, I pulled it out you seeAnd I bandaged my hand up goodThen I sharpened up my toolAnd went back to carving wood.It’s some years later now, though scarredMy hand has healed quite fineThe best lessons are born of tragedyI now have an extended lifeline.
Maura Macaluso