An Ode to Clay

You were
surrounded by life
before the potter came
scooped you up
in a rusty pail
took you away
from the play
of the rains
and the rustling greens
to participate in
his own creative play
a cocktail of elements
comprised of
earth, water and fire
where you would be
the helpless protagonist
and he the artist
the puppet master
who’s creative genius
would transform you so
that even the mirror
of your own past
would no longer recognise
your transformed face.

He got you drunk
on a pitcher of water
and kneaded you sore
threw you
onto his wheel
let you spin till
you were dizzy
then seductively
put his hands
to your spinning self
deftly and deceivingly
gave you a shape
and before you could
even raise
a protest
your free-form gone
your existence
had become
a restricted shape
with a wicked smile
he lifted you off
his skill, his pride
his creative inspiration
now held in his hands.

Then out in the sun
he put you to dry
where your last reserves
of precious moisture
slowly sucked out
no tears left to cry
then they were back
those practised hands
you were carefully lifted
carried and placed
in the chamber of fire
amongst your others
and as the kiln door shut
bereft of any emotion
little did you know
the seal had been put
on your looming fate
you were now
to be slowly cooked
till your insides melted
your soul turned to matter
and then some more
till you my dear
were no longer clay.



Author: vidur sahdev

Living it comes!

2 thoughts on “An Ode to Clay”

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