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I Am Clay

I Am Clay

I am made of clay.

I am fragile, I am lean.

I am brittle, I am weak.

Neglect me…

and you’ll start to see the cracks.

I am clay

I am tenaciously black.

I am tenaciously me.

I am tenaciously free

I am clay

In its most natural form

I come in different shades.

I come in different textures.

I come with different properties.

embodying the character of malevolent deities?


But No I am clay!



I’ve been bought I’ve be sold.

I’ve been molded I’ve been scolded.

I’ve been battered and shattered.

However, I ..am.. clay.

And i need time.

Time to transform.

Time to reclaim my original state of the waters and the air and the steam and the rocks.

For They are tenaciously free.

Or time to discover my new identity… of the soil.

To be the foundation for the growth of a myriad of flowers.

The Iris. I see the Iris. I see her growth, I see her blossom…I see her thrive.

I was made of clay…

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