soul portrait

I am a juxtaposition of selves
of mind and soul and thought and feel -

My body bound to earth
skin of yellow clay
raked here and there
by molding fingers.
sprouting hair like grass turned dead
and brown
soaked by red ocher and
bleached by sun's gold.
my nose - misshapen stone
tossed at random into a tired face
above a smear of sandstone
grumbling with the ground.

But beneath scrub brush of brows
/ the eyes /
mirroring the sky
from stormy gray to autumn blue
fixed ever on the clouds -
and can you see?
through clouded windows
the true shape of the soul...

/ the east wind's cry
and all the sky
forged into winged form
and starlight stolen
with the moon
just to be transformed
to silver feathers
on copper wings
soaring on the storm -
a phoenix flies
in glory high /

- but yearns, and wonders why
she's trapped within this human shape
of earth
and clay
and stone...