“Uncloaking”   the past draped about us like a cloak*  heavy and wet from the years   the smell ~ both of home, and the strange scent of fear of letting go of change   laden my shoulders with a weight I can no longer…

My very own cloud shaped ~ concrete hole filled with chlorinated sparkling water   painted toes sun-kissed skin oiled up and set   to float   a quiet serene place   to Be   unique diamonds through movement looking deep within   crystal clear shadows…

Am I, perfectly perturbed? I am Am I, wonderfully witty? I am Am I, consciously creative? I am Am I, decidedly determined? I am Am I, titillatingly thoughtful? I am Am I, graciously grateful? I AM!   Amanda Potter©: 2019 Poetry Marathon

Born of Earth Grown from seed Sown long ago   Dancing with wind Ever-changing Swaying to and fro   Tattered, tired peices Burn in fire Resurrecting soul   Blessed water Washed over Quenching thirst Cleansing sin   Only to be born again