My Soul

My soul is trapped within the cell of my body

Weighed down by muscle and bone

And barred by the words I fail to speak

Words that can never truly describe the simplest of emotions

 

Each ounce of weight forces it

Into an even smaller space

The world constantly swirling, never slowing

The hours lengthening, the physical weight increasing

Until there is nothing left to be held on the inside

 

Only by breathing deeply

Creating rhythmic, constant motions,

Spiked like a heartbeat

Through the dramatic and vivid colors that fill the blank page

Or the constant spinning of the potter’s wheel

As smooth, wet clay kisses my fingertips

As it develops a line, a form, an art, and a tool;

Only then can the weight be relieved from my soul

If only for a fleeting moment

It is something to keep me alive

To keep my soul from losing hope

Art is the passion that frees me

And once finished 

Reveals a subconscious part of me that I had never known before

Often questioned is the reality of a soul

I know that mine exists

For it constantly beats the inner walls of my skin

Searching savagely for an escape

Making its presence known

Often with overwhelming force

As it searches for its voice

 

Trapped within the cell of my body

Beneath the weight of muscle and bone

One day, my soul will be free

Of the physical boundaries that confine it

This poem is about: 
Me

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