The clay place


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Wednesday, September 16, 2015

Am I the earth?

I lie down to rest
On Her waters
To sleep and be washed clean
I fall gently but am
Bobbed to the surface.

You are too much air
To become one with me now.

I try to climb the clay bank
To immerse in Her mud
Slick and soft glop
I go down and stick
But still am not received.

You must dry out more
You are too much water.

I lie in the dead leaves
Cupped my weight against
Her life returning to earth.
My bones becoming weighty
As rocks, but I am rejected.

You are too much fire
Your heat does not belong
To the worms yet.

I lie and look to the clouds
And stars

Am I also like them?
Am I also the earth?

                                          Copyright 2015 Barbara Rogers

6 comments:

  1. Replies
    1. But it's the way my life is, especially these days!

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  2. Barbara -- As I sit here reading your poem I notice the sun peeking through the clouds burning off the rainfall on the roof across the way. White steamy mist arises and seems to match your words in some ways. Nature is always moving its power around and we stand by and watch wanting to be included with nature's power. At least this is what your poem brings to my mind. I imagine many thoughts are contained within, "Am I Earth." -- barbara

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. That's a beautiful comment, Barbara! Thanks for your thoughts.

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