Divine Lips to Clay

What is this place that
calls me – arrests me – freezes me
in my frenzied,
in my harried
activity?

Something
inside of me knows
that this flurry of
importance:

starting this

building that

saving this

securing that

is simply not
enough; is simply
too much.

Deep
inside I want
this flesh to
know that it
lives in the sweep of

a pillar of fire

and under

a columned cloud.

I want my body to
sing or better yet to
whistle
as God
again puts divine lips
to clay and blows.

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7 thoughts on “Divine Lips to Clay

  1. Mary Irene says:

    Loving this in all its essence…

  2. shoreacres says:

    It’s interesting that the poem itself seems to move backward, toward beginnings. All of life, it sometimes seems, is a matter of addition. I suppose that’s why the declutterers have taken over so much of home and garden tv, not to mention websites.

    And I really, really like your reference to whistling. There’s a certain insouciance in someone who walks down the road, whistling. It’s homey, and comfortable. It doesn’t even have to be in tune.

    • agjorgenson says:

      I’m glad you enjoyed the whistling reference. I love the playfulness of whistling, and am also intrigued by how easy and hard it is: a little like play itself, I think.

      As for addition as the path of life, I think that is true in general, and then the years start to speak to us of the need to get ready for the great decluttering moment! But even so, I still like to buffer my life now and then with this or that, and think that okay as long as I’m able to keep the long view in sight.

  3. diannegray says:

    The line “is simply not enough; is simply too much” really rang true to me Allen. This is so true of life.

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