clay.

your feet were clay, cracked and speckled and dirty

so i hold them, mold them, and shape them, thumbing the arch

smoothing, removing the creases between your toes

moving my hands in lovely little rows.

i cup the heel, feeling its weight and sturdiness

and i blend in the imperfections,

With great thought and pride, erased them from sight

and removed the gauze of dirt by casting some light.

i kneed them, taking away the calluses from hard work

and the cuts from old wounds, from walking on glass

from tiptoeing on fire, from running through the tall grass,

from dancing in the stream, from rainshowers on the distant shore,

from climbing those rocks and trees to be higher than you were before.

But,

You never stood still. Never for a moment

Can't you see, how perfect you are?

How you shouldn't sully your world with

Whirls and swirls, and sparks and marks,

Of flavor and color, and thought and journeys?

I want to create a smooth, slender expanse of brown

so that you may stand tall, rooted in the ground

Planted and firmly in place, holding your poise and grace.

Why must you go out, and let these cracks collect

Speckles and shards which only reflect

your loss of purity and convoluted luminescence?

feet of clay : a vulnerability, a failing, or a weakness

- Book of Daniel in the Bible