I am clay
Molded and shaped by life,
my choices,
my decisions,
my experiences.
All have changed me.
Some places I am straight and smooth.
Others I am bulbous and caddywampus
But the overall effect is beautiful.
I am beautiful.
I am in the fire.
Parts of me are burning
Parts of me are glazed
Parts are bare
Parts are raw inside
The kiln-fired shell scarcely concealing the pieces that have yet to set.
I have shattered.
All my pieces have hit the floor.
Lifeless and uncertain of their purpose.
People walk by
Some look down and see
Others tread on the fragments, breaking them further into dust.
The glaze that had glossed the red substance now being the only thing holding it together.
“How sad she’s broken”
“What good is she now?”
The conversations swirl around me:
“What is she doing these days?”
The response: “Nothing.”
My response: “surviving”
Water begins to crawl along the floor.
The furthest pieces begin to turn dark with moisture
They move closer.
The dust of me travels,
The fragments rest.
The cooling freshness allows me to breathe again.
Soon I am drowning.
Swirling with the water
Still no course
Still no purpose
Still lost and broken
I have not changed
But I have moved
The water deepens.
I can’t see the people
I can’t hear the conversations
I can’t taste the dirt
I can’t feel the floor
I can’t smell the fear.
The pressure!!
Oh God, the pressure.
The water is pushing me
Deeper into the wall.
Some pieces are glossy side out,
Others are the lumpy insides meant to stay hidden.
My once useful and purposeful form is gone.
In its place are shards that sometimes cut, sometimes soothe
All are moving into the wall.
Out of order
Out of place.
Out of my control
So beautifully out of my control
Do I want this?
Do I like what I am becoming?
Pieces of me begin to fit with pieces of others
I am not alone
I am not alone
I am becoming a part of something
Something profound
Something I cannot see
Sharp edges still poke out.
The water is pushing them in.
The seemingly haphazard separation becomes perfection.
This piece fits with that fragment
I’m not a puzzle to be put back together in to the original form.
Oh no,
I am meant for more than that.
The rushing water drowns out the
Doubt
Fear
Comparison
Questions
I do nothing but rest deeper
Snuggle deeper into my position in the wall.
The glaze shines brighter – polished by the liquid
The rough insides become smoother.
Still lumpy but soft to touch.
This is it.
Becoming beauty.
Becoming a part of something greater
I am not perfect.
– Will I ever be?
I will be resting
Allowing the water to move me
Shape me
Polish me
Place me
Till I become all that He wishes.
Till I become love.
