Red Clay

The long ago
rains
left the path I had to travel
a very deep
and dark red
almost as if it were saturated with the blood
of a thousand tears

There were puddles
here
and there
of what seemed like life’s elixir
flowing freely
between each of my steps . . . unable to resist curiosity
I stop in the midst of my travels
and take a handful of the earth;
it had the consistency of clay
cold and lifeless
as if it were waiting to be molded
into dreams and possibilities
lost in this brief moment
my hands
began to interpret my imagination
shaping
and reshaping
abstract sculptures
as if I were searching for my soul within each creation

Time raced
as I sculpted
and sculpted
until my hands were stained with the color of my journey
new storms came and dissipated
rinsing the earth from my hands
and I continued
toiling
and toiling
taking more
and more of the clay
as if the path was eternal;
as if it would not end
my steps became careless
as my heart
my mind
and my soul
worked to recreate my imagination into something real
my hands became stained again
and again
until I defined the red clay

Sculpted beautifully Mig..xxx..

Sculpted beautifully Mig..xxx..