“What If Jesus Had Only Nine Toes?” (Poem with Collage by Ana C. Antunes)

He was a man of only few words.

But the few words he spoke

were immensely powerful.

Lucho was almost always quiet.

He didn’t talk much.

But it was more than enough.

Like a divine embrace

He always had that peaceful smile on his face

as only those who are constantly in contact

with God’s thoughts would act.

His ears and nose were big

and so was his fate.

But his head and hands were great

like his heart.



He was a truck driver,

delivering bottles of soda door to door.

“He was one of the first one to bring it to the Chilean Market.”

His son would say proudly.

But his legacy was not so much of being a pioneer in his own world,

but what made him really fulfill his heart was actually being a servant of God.

At that time he already enjoyed working with his hands,

painting, sculpting or simply sensing objects in an atelier he hired

so that he would handle the wood inspired

by the entire splendor of the Creator’s manifestation.

He already had six children

when he decided to have a full time career as a sculptor.

He was poor

but his wife poured

encouraging thoughts on him

and she helped him find clients to his art.

He then started to sell in small parts

with scketches and wood varvings which he would later paint

growing to larger than life sculptures of Saints

for the Catholic Church in Santiago as a start.



Many Churches in Chile now,

from North to South,

have his sculptures in vow

to beautify their sanctuaries with their grace and majesty.

Even the Pope has one of his woodcarvings next

to him as a Christ on the cross lies at the Vatican office desk.


Lucho, as he was known by his peers,

worked with his hands as fast as he could endure

so that he continued to work gladly,

while he raised the family which was getting bigger and bigger.


His wife bore eleven children,

but like a miracle, eight survived

and are very much alive

form a life of faith and light.

He always believed God would provide.

And he was right!



He was going to turn eighty

when he contracted a rare illness called “Wagner’s Disease”

and he became weaker and weaker

as he could no longer feel at ease.

But not even that stopped him of being away from his Art.

For him this was not a farewell.

He kept drawing and he continued to sculpt as well.

for the baby of his family

who is actually my husband.

He made a serene-look Christ without a cross

with only four toes in one of his feet.

And we cried in our loss

for him it was the last time we would greet.

He died exactly at midnight

of June ninth, 2002, on Sunday,

the day God rested after so much labour,

and a week before the Father’s Day.

He didn't miss the call from the Saviour,

and as a devoted son he couldn’t delay.

His last words were for his wife,

“Don’t miss me too much!”

As usual, he always thought of someone else

rather than himself. God Bless!

(Excerpt from book "Ph(r)ases of Life" by Ana Bowlova):