I'd always thought
I handled stress well.
Had a picture of myself
in my head
of a woman who
could walk through fire…
till I took a stroll once or twice
in the furnace.
Abednigo, I am not.
Now.
I am well fired clay.
Strong but brittle.
Not scorched,
but damaged
in that I can
never be made into
something other
than the form I was
when I entered the kiln.
1 comment:
All three of these are amazing, bon. They capture heartwrenching ideas about being a woman. Hope you are sending these out for publication.
PS: Still have the song you sent me on rotation -- took it on my Ipod to Kauai. (Can't remember how much about her you've put on the internet, so I'm redacting her name and relationship to you) has a ton of heart and talent!
<3 Anne
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