Cement-Crack Sunflower

You’ve heard it said

the clay doesn’t tell the potter what to do
dinner doesn’t decide what it will be
the book doesn’t write itself

But I say unto us

listen harder
there is a way that’s simple
a way of letting go
of leaning in
of having an idea, but adapting
to what the clay is like today
making the dinner that screams from the fridge
use me before I rot, and abso-fucking-lutely,
this poem pulled itself, line by line,
out of my jabbing thumbs on a tiny screen

You’ve heard it said

there is a Master Potter,
Divine Author, Inflexible Maker
submit submit submit

But I say unto us
trust your curiosity
confusion is better than certainty
we are both
collective and creator
compelled and compelling
everything to be softer
melting “do nots” into moss
under bare feet, the possibility
of less pain, each curl of growth around stone
cheered, the sheer resilience,
numinous stretch of identity
sky unlocked for deeper breaths
absurdly oversized smiles

6/2 and 7/14/2023

Joann Renee Boswell is a member of Sierra Cascades Yearly Meeting of Friends.