"Poetry is thoughts that breathe, and words that burn." ~Thomas Gray

"Poetry unites." ~Anon

"Truth is such a rare thing, it is delightful to tell it." ~Emily Dickinson


Written by Annette C. Boehm
She currently lives in Germany
Her blog: Annette C. Boehm

Piece of Clay

here, in my palm, size of a plum
still warm - it came off moments ago
and if it had breath it would be mine
but it has none, and it's still mine

as a kid i heard the story
young jesus took a clay bird in his palm
let it go and it flew away

i am not jesus, i know
and the clay is going cold and grey
becoming a stranger first
then a thing
a bruise i bury under the petal snow

Originally published on writer's personal blog.
Posted with consent of the writer.

4 Comments:

  1. Jannie Funster said...
    Beautiful. Heart-breaking and I'm not exactly sure why -- the temporary nature of everything but God, I guess.
    CLAY said...
    "Piece of Clay"

    Splendid; you may take as many pieces as you like. I am a generous fellow!
    WHY? said...
    Oh, this piece of clay is not a thing but a human being. I can feel it. And, I, too, am heart broken.
    a.c.b. said...
    thanks for your feedback! clay, thank you for your generosity. :-) and why, - i like the way you read.

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