Poetry in welding

Art meets craft in the following poem written by Jake Beelar, a freshman at Fort Vancouver High School and first-year welding student.

Welding
Grinding.
The screams of metal on metal
piercing the air, clouding my ears;
fireflies, igniting off the friction and pressure,
singeing my extremities, kissing with heat,
coddling the sun at arm’s length,
commanding lightning, with rods.
The sickening fear of melting,
Of burning, of incinerating, of vaporizing,
Of nothing, of the light vanishing
And the horrifying sight of molten slag.
Burn marks of an arson victim.
Metal violently strewn over its brethren.
Stomach churning,
cold shivers up and down my spine,
Slowly, painfully, moving closer to him.
I hand him my piece, a defect in art.
And he gives me praise.