When I met you, I was clay.
Uncertain, unformed, shapeless, a mass
shaped by your hands
into your Galathea,
the woman you wanted me to be.
When I left you, I was molten,
hot, red, fiery, burnt
hammered on the anvil of divorce
sizzled and splashed with pain
I didn't know who I wanted to be.
When I am on my own, I am bronze,
carved, etched, lined, curved
chipped away from rough rock
into the beautiful woman
I always hoped I could be.
Minerva
6 comments:
Now here is the kind of stuff I really love from you!
Very potent images. As always your words meld beautifully into art that speaks to the soul. Thank you for sharing, missed this when you where gone.
I love this, it's excellent: strong, acknowledging, overcoming.
You write the songs....
Just glad that I could help out in some way.
I actually got chills when I read this. I can really identify with it.
Thank you.
Peace.............
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