Squish me like a lump of clay
Deflate me like a balloon
Break me like a weed in a storm
This life has torn me up and spit me out
And I sit here wondering
How do I become half full
How do I know what I need
Who am I after
Death
Disease
Divorce
Departure
Damn near gone
But I turn around and I am still here
With no answers
Without ideas
Almost fifty years on this planet
I had more instincts
when I was born
I am a lump of clay
A stretched balloon
A soaked weed
Sitting here
Laying here
Running
Chasing
Crying
Wishing I knew
what comes next
Maybe a tattoo
A band around my arm
A magical spell
That reminds me
I am art
That reminds me I can fly
No matter how empty or alone or confused or depleted or worn or hopeful or or or or or or however I feel in this life
I pull at the clay
Starting to mold myself
I will surely have wings
I will surely have rolls and dimples and wrinkles
I will surely find a smile
In the clay body
Surprise myself that I am more than half full
That what I need is between my fingers
Wet and slippery and new
Like a baby
Halfway through
These words and images are the property of the poet, Sharon Frances.
Do not use in part or whole without permission.
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