Is the axe to boast itself over the one who chops with it?

We are wood.
But first
we are trees.
We are soil, loose
and turned over.

We are the earth
that spins and spins.
We are the sea
vast and volatile.
Occasionally

we are the staff, held out
parting
waters
producing a dry path
to the Promised Land.

We are not, however,
the hand
and never will be
free to grasp, swing, split.
Even Satan is a tool.

Published by asaur