Who
sends pots
to the stream
of strength only
to come back with a
basket drenched in hot tears?
***
Who tells the tale of pot
turning to basket
for who to get
its joke in
dire thirst?
Who?
***
We
need it,
water to
drink, not hot tears
So where is the pot?
Broken by the unknown?
***
We will all go right there
Where our pots will turn
baskets after clay
gets eaten
as fire
runs
Amoafowaa Sefa Cecilia (c) 2015

4 replies on “CLAYS TURN BASKETS”
You write shining bright poetry, Cecilia. Sooo good.
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Thank you dear mentor. I hope you’re good.
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Excellent work.
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Thank you dear Carol. Blessings.
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