Poem: The Scale

The Scale

The scale lies in the shadow,
not immediately recognizable
until the light shifts, and then,

at a certain time of day
when the sun is low,
it catches your eye,

and you are reminded of the balance,
of how this century old relic
was once the measure

of flour, and nails and meat,
placed on one side end, measured
by random iron weights, measured as surely

as you have felt yourself measured
by others, judged by weights not of your own making,
yet somehow, determining your value.

And you shudder, that harsh memory of measure
taunting you, torturing you, holding you back
from the truth of who you are,

the truth that is not bound by iron weights
or the judgment of others,
but by your ability to let go

as God's warmth and wind
pull you skyward, beyond, far beyond
your self inflicted gravity.


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The picture was taken at Rogers Store museum in Surry Country, Virginia. You can click on it for a larger version.

Tom