i wish hearts
and laws
were as easy
to change
as clay
that persistent hands
could help press them
into the shapes
necessary
to hold nourishment,
warmth, to be
beautiful, imperfect
strange
and i know
that clay
is not
really
so easy
that even clay
takes force
and fire
to change
and even then
there is no telling
whether the result
will be anything
like what we might
expect
.
.
.
i’ve turned
to clay
for comfort
in these times
when words
do not feel
like enough
there are
so many words
to share which
describe these
times,
with all
this despair,
frustration,
exhaustion,
and rage,
when my hands
feel so
desperately
unable
to change
this world
in the ways
it needs to change
at least
i can make
these small
things
that people
can drink from,
eat from,
grow plants in,
and remember
that though
we cannot always
make the world
as we wish
it to be
we can believe
in the fire
and make
an offering.
