Golem
I carry vials in a pack on my back
containing the remnants of my past
desiccated into dust
pulverized into powder
At the side of the rutted road I stop
at intervals as I aimlessly wander
Carefully choosing one, mixing the contents
with muddy water from puddles, drops of blood
I prick from the tips of my tender fingers
creating clay I attempt to sculpt and mold
into something more than before
A life I was not allowed to live
A golem of a me that will never be
A form pleasing to your finicky eyes
that favor petite perfection
blind to the beauty that resides beyond
that time cannot touch
transcending the transient physical
She cracks and crumbles in my hands
before I can complete her
as I do not know the name of God
He has never cared to know mine
Truth and death in art
but a letter apart
Post Comments
Poetrysoup is an environment of encouragement and growth so only provide specific positive comments that indicate what you appreciate about the poem. Negative comments will result your account being banned.
Please
Login
to post a comment
Turn off ads, get more exposure for your poetry, and get more features with a
Premium Membership.
