I’m sculpting an image of you
molding and twisting clay into your likeness.
You emerge from mud as a miniature relief
and I sigh that I remember your face at all.
I’m sculpting you, creating who I wish you were
You emerge determined to be yourself,
no matter my intentions.
In the end, clay is inadequate for both of us.
Shawn L. Bird 
Reblogged this on sandylweston and commented:
This poem explains why “only GOD can make a tree!” And only God has the right clay for people-shaping! LOVE the poem!
Reblogged this on interalleyah and commented:
Still adjusting to the poignance and harsh reality this one carries, ever so lightly.
Sorry.
Didn’t mean to cause stress!
Didn’t cause stress at all, I am just relishing the power of your words. 🙂
One’s self is one’s self, you can change the outside but the heart remains the same!
That’s the “wherever you go, there you are” principle at work again. 🙂
No matter how hard one tries, one cannot mold another.
I think if that was completely true all parents would be in despair.
Lovely. Conjures lots if thoughts. Mostly reminds me hue I cannot draw or sculpt but writing can often create a pretty good image:)
Yes.