transformation

Fresh Red Clay

A Poem

To sink my hands deep into Red Clay, feel the muddy squish of water gushing between my bony, anxious digits — un-earthing the child in me, starting over in need of the new; the pleasant shrill of an oncoming train whistle cars brimmed with mysterious packages, enigmatic passengers on the way (shouting my name).

I walk blindfolded upstreaming, cold clear water chilling my bruised and tender feet, north winds meet me tamping down my fever as I walk slowly alone pushing up against the current’s brick wall, gradually acquiescing — step by step until I’m walking unimpeded.

The fresh Red Clay — I make a fist, then tiny figurines of animals; rabbits, lambs, bears begin to take shape.

I’m better; the journey wins the day.

I’m up to my elbows in the earthy smell of victory as I take a deep breath in semi-automatic amazement when gravity’s final wish arrives in second place.

Grace Notes: We all face big changes in our lives, and they’re often scary. and unpredictable. Jobs, relationships — you name it — frightening and exciting all in the same breath.

© Scott Zosel (2023 All Rights Reserved)