We’re all born malleable lumps of clay.
Full of hidden nuggets of unformed gold.
Strawmen built of experience strands of hay.
Able to ourselves shape, reshape and mold.
Rebuild from the ruins, rise from the ashes.
Take trauma and rare origami gems fold.
To withstand tormenting flashbacks flashes.
Find meaning when all seems utterly lost.
Capture fleeting hope that by us dashes.
Change orbit to no longer be star-crossed.
Listen to the voice in our hearts and soul.
Let passion heal, lift our spirits aloft.
Let hurt go, take charge, be in control.©RedCat
Reassemble the pieces to a new whole.
Written for this week’s Sunday Muse.
Also shared with Writers’ Pantry #74: Words, words, glorious words.
Written in the Terza Rima pattern. Which I tried a few times before.
In Raven Dream Flight, Open, Accept, Surrender and In The Badger Sett.