My words disappear in the swell
I have a complicated relationship with words, they get caught in my throat when I try to speak
They disappear as I try to write them on the page
People used to tell me I used the wrong words
Now people tell me why my words sound like poetry
The earliest recorded form of writing is 5000 years old written on clay slabs
It makes me anxious to think of my words lasting that long so I let them dissolve and get washed away
an offering or a prayer
a manifestation or a gift
a small way of giving back to the land that sustains me
Sometimes I feel like I dissolve in water
Like a ball of mud
My body disperses and I am quenched
Like bubbles rising in salt
My body
Body of water
Clay body
Clay and water is what I am made from
Soft and malleable
Oh so strong in my softness
When clay dries it becomes brittle and hard
Cover me with water and the bubbles rise
It is not to late until fire is added to the mix and it hardens for good
Sometimes I harden just a little to the beauty of it all
Put me in a bowl of water and I dissolve
My form changes and I fill the bowl
I am no longer just my body
I am mud and flesh and water
Oh how wonderful to be
My belly is heavy and sinking to the cool and dark places
My limbs reaching to the light
And dancing dancing to the music of life