I am Clay

There was clay and there was water,
There were hands and there were thoughts.
I was cold and hardened and ragged and edged.
I was pressed and shaken and pounded and punctured and…
Awkward.
His fingers dripped with velvety water,
As they intertwined between themselves,
Around my spinning.
I was pinched and squeezed and pulled and lifted,
I was shaved and flattened and cooled and heated.
I vibrated in the freedom of the memories walking away,
I shook with nerves at the changing of it all
and gave flight to the thought of what was morphing.
Light was twisting and suffocating the darkness,
Color was reacting with senses,
and shape was molding from within.
Heart beat racing,
Breath funneling in and out of nostrils,
and spinning slowing,
I felt smoothness where scars were once buried,
I felt ripples where scabs were once fingerprints,
and I felt where the blindness had been numb to it all.
I was health and light and love and grace,
I was shape and mold and smooth and perfect.
I stood in change and strength and awe.
I turned to thank the hands but they were gone,
and realized I never cared to ask His name.

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