I would rather be steel

I would rather be steel
Than cast iron.

Cast iron:
Pound it, beat it,
Batter it, heat it –
Un-dented, undaunted,
Impassive, silver stares and
Perfect, unblemished countenance of
The dull grey of the sea
Before storms.

But
Stretch. Crush.
Hard, unyielding, oblivious,
Brittle...
Stubborn in its futile resistance
To inevitable fracture.

Steel, though:
Pound it, beat it,
Batter it, heat it –
Look, a dent! There, a scratch!
Spotted by cruel fate.
But
Stretch. Crush.
Through cruel cycles
Of tension and compression
It yields.
Bending but never breaking.
Pliant. In search of
New equilibrium.

Make me a frame of hard cast iron, then,
That I should bear my fifty years well
In time.
But for my heart, give me
The toughness of steel.
Let it stretch each day,
And bend.
Be rent and bear scars
But never break.

Yes. In my heart
I will be steel.
And you, my forge.