Dear Father,
May I ask that I come not to the anvil
as a hammer, but as steel,
red from the furnace, young to the sledge.
It is not for me
to strike a peen and shape
a hinge or shear a blade,
the greater share of spark dismayed.
Rather, let me bend
beneath the blows that turn me,
let me curl about the horn
and join at the throat,
That I, never the smith,
but ever the metal,
may come to know
my one true form.
Sweet and Bitter Greens 
So beautiful.
Thank you. And while I generally don’t speak on intent or provide exegesis, I think it is important to say that in this great time, when gender roles are being redefined, that we “males” take a moment to reflect on what we can be, rather than attempt to maintain what has been imposed upon us.
D