What If I Were Made of Clay?

What if I were made of clay and could not move or roam or play,

I’d have to stay.

What if my legs were solid ground, my arms were bound in dirt,

I could not run away from things no matter how they hurt. 

I’d have to listen from this place and let my void fill up her space,

I’d have to watch beliefs once true, diminish from the me I knew.

Perhaps my truth would be revealed amongst the soil in the field.

Perhaps I’d hear it right this time and move out from within this shrine.

What if I were made of clay and learned to move and roam and play,

I think I’d choose to stay.

With so much flowing into me,

I’d cast my line into the sea to satisfy my longing-fly,

I’d catch desires multiplied.

What if I were made of clay and loved to move and roam and play,

I think I’d gather up this place and make it more than just a waste.

I’d plant the seeds of feeling good.  

I’d tend the Earth of motherhood.

I’d walk the land that made me grow,

Inspiring change for friend and foe.

I’d say to you from in my place,

All filled in space that gave me grace. 

Please sit with me unleashed from lines that sep’rated us before this time,

Please sit with me, alive and free,

Our lines cast out into the sea.

Let’s look out far into the sky and be the ones to notice why,

All hearts not still as you and I,

Don’t see the love that floats on by,

That goes unnoticed day by day,

By others not so made of clay.