I wrote this poem after my parents passed years ago. I needed to do something physical and was introduced to clay and began a never-ending road to Art Therapy.

Mamma, Mamma,
Don’t Cry,
Lucky for us, we have been born again,
From rich moist clay and strewn love,
Each sand particle together mixed.

Sweet waltzes in a time
Gone-bye,
Dancing with vulnerable,glass-quarried limbs,
Blind mocking eyes cold as stone,
Mamma, Mamma,
Don’t Cry.

So harried our beginning and our end,
With so much desire and in quiet desperation,
I cut your jade wrists than mine,
My bereavement pain has not been easy.

Twice no one dies,
I wail in unhope,
A slip of the hand,
And we are together again!