This, in praise of inanimate objects, of the piece I brought home last year from the church rummage sale. A useful color in basic fabric, a button missing among its worn tufts. Sturdy, not graceful. Dependable, not particularly easy. In a corner of the room, out of the way, people sit on it when the space gets crowded. They chat with friends, coffee cups in hand, then rise and move on without noticing. Why should they notice. Blessed are those who simply sit and wait for people who need to take the weight off their feet.
Luci Shaw is the author most recently of Breath for the Bones: Art, Imagination, and Spirit—Reflections on Creativity and Faith (Nelson). This poem first appeared in RADIX, Vol. 33, No. 1.
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