Wet clay, supple though hardening
Stands before me, silent, sleeping
I reach out, fingers trembling
Touching, molding, so very careful
Clumsy, I push too hard
Leave a gash, I try to smooth her
Damage done, I must live with my work
Ashamed, I withdraw my hand
Bow my head, weep
The Artist takes mine in his
Places my hand on her soul again
the clay He’s given me
To try again and again
His eyes smile, patient, reassuring
So I reach out again, fingers trembling
I see something now, though hidden
I draw it out, patient
stroke by stroke
Night falls, I press on
My excitement builds, flourishes
Here it comes
A shiver of life ripples, sings, dances
A sparkle, a dawn, a creeping violet flame
She smiles back at me
Sees me, loves me too
I, wet clay, supple though hardening
I stand before her, silent, sleeping
She reaches out, fingers trembling
Touching, molding
So very careful…