Disclosure of the Contrary

I am the broken tool,
shattered haft that will not
heft the weight.
To foil the furrow in the making
is my way.  Crooked somehow,
what is cast awry is best cast away,
or melted down for what metal remains.
To be recast is to recant, in the presence
of stronger incantations, in the will
of a stronger, better maker.
A dull blade cuts only the hand
that wields it, only what is
unintended.  The glitter of its
chrome conceals a soft heart
that will not hold an edge or be true.
Still, it is the interesting twist,
the strangely formed castoff
that may have the chance or luck,
to catch the eye from the depth of the scrap heap.
Over the coals of the forge,
under the blow of the hammer,
wedded through the arc of a weld
to some balancing support,
form & substance are reborn
a part of a larger structure.
While the smoother contour
may be soothing to the viewer,
it is the contrary that courts
our wonder.