(after e.e. cummings)
listen—
the hammers have fallen asleep
& even the nails
have forgotten their names
somewhere
(between a whisper
and a workbench)
the master is humming
the silence that made you
you—
with your bright sharp
explanations,
your need to shine
like an unblinking sun—
put them down.
(meekness isn’t
what you think
it is)
it’s a door that doesn’t lock,
a hand that doesn’t close.
it’s knowing you could
shatter something—
and choosing instead
to breathe.
the grain of the wood
is a psalm if you listen
with your wrists.
the sawdust a cloud
of prayers nobody claims.
be slower.
unlearn thunder.
in this room
of unspoken tools
you are being built—
not into a statue
but a tenderness.
and when you leave,
(do leave—)
leave the dust
on your palms.
it looks good on you,
this gentle
unfinishedness.
An apprentice does not master a craft through lectures alone.
He watches, imitates, and practices under the eye of the master.
In the same way, James teaches that wisdom is shown “by good conduct” (James 3:13), not by clever words.
To apprentice in meekness is to enter Christ’s workshop, where truth is shaped into obedience.
It is where knowledge becomes muscle, and understanding moves through the wrists, steady, responsive, and guided by the grain of His will.
Wisdom’s proof is not what we can say, but what we quietly build with our hands and hearts.
