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.
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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.