a poem in my pocket

A galloping cloud pony,

high altitude cirrus bred,

stretches swiftly across

untamed prairie skies

while thin wispy tail

and swirly mane

float whimsically

in its trail.

Somedays

I feel like a clam

in a rough sea;

an oyster that

has swallowed gravel.

A mussel that

cannot move

from its place

but must accept

whatever passes

with the tide.

Unexpected rejection

and harsh words

have wounded

my soft insides

and it’s hard work

to cover the sharp

grains of sand;

to smooth over

the painful memories

so they will not

continue to grate.

I close up

to protect myself;

retreating inside

the tough shell

of my mind.

I desperately

want to believe

that these scars

can be transformed

into pearls

of beauty.