Be quiet my soul
for there’s no one to hear
Your frustration I feel
pressing against my chest
and heart
Be careful there
you put too much strain
on my heart, my soul
be careful there.
I feel it like a derrick hand
on the high perch
watching the pressure rise
gauging the strain
in the hole
till the swollen clay
up-heaves and blows.
I feel it like a well-head breached
with a rough-neck riding
a blow-out
One spark
be careful my soul
one spark…
If only I could encompass my soul
with arms like a womb
or a dark cave of clay
a warm-red package that would
cradle my soul
till it could settle
and stay.
Be careful there my soul
against my hardened heart
you pound
Against brittle clay
too long in a kiln,
you want to fly free
But my soul, my heart
has need of you
to stay.
Be careful my soul
the pressure…
A cap has loosed
a spark has caught
quick my soul
the alarm…
I feel a disjointing,
a falling away.
My soul, be careful
I feel a rift has opened
somewhere
Somewhere in this clay.
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