by Rand E Oertle

Created on: April 10, 2009   Last Updated: September 28, 2009

LUKA

Luka was a mountain of a man.
The best wood carver I ever met.
He was as old as the hills,
and as young as his latest creation.
Sinews were his hands,
muscles were his hands,
tendons were his hands,
and his hands were green.
Luka carved with his heart.
No mallet did pound the handles of his chisels
But with the base of those huge, thick utterly magnificent hands.

Luka pounded the chisels and cut the glorious wood into
submission and revealed its inner beauty for all to see.
Luke's hand were green.
His laughter was larger than his body.
Luka loved life and wife and wood.
And wood loved Luka.
Luka also knew Stalin,
And prison camps of the archipelago.
There he forged his own chisels and carved.
No mallet, just those huge beautiful hands.
His hands were green.
I asked Luka once,
"Luka, why is it your carved wooden Indians
have hair on their chest?"
There was a pause,
Then an explosion of laughter.
And Luka boomed....
"Because they're Croatians Indians."
And the explosion erupted again from
deep within his belly.
Of Luka it can be inadequately said,
"He was a master craftsman."
His monuments are in wood and
grace the halls of the great and rich.
All because his hands were green.
Stalin was stupid.
He chased Luka away.
But America welcomed Luka,
and Luka carved with his heart
and his hands of green.

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