A ball of clay
Lovingly scooped from
The Great Mother Earth
Formed into a perfect vessel
Divinity
Encased in a crust
By conditioning
By society’s norms
By their truths
A usable vessel
With years of great Blessings
With years of great use
Loving
Being Loved
Healing
Being Healed
Seen by herself
And others
As the outward appearance
As the titles she carries
Illusion
Empty and Filled
Over and over
Learning
Understanding
Grasping
What is her purpose?
Slowly she notices
The cracks in the surfaces
Is there reason to worry?
No, it’s just expansion
Evolving
Those dried and hardened pieces
Kilned into place so long ago
Begin to fall off
Sometimes it is painful
Sometimes it is terrifying
Sometimes it is wonderful
Always … it is healing
As the soft, supple clay begins to show up once more
She becomes aware
She becomes fluid
Able to move with the
Flow of any wind that comes her way
Aware of the tiniest bird
But not just the bird
His wing
His eye
His movement
His voice
His presence
His apparent awareness of me
His energy
Noticing our differences
Yet, realizing
We are the same
Purely because we exist
Part of the whole
Divinity
Awareness
Being
