Stonework
She Molds New Clay
She stares into my fears
Pushes back my years
With her piercing eyes
Time doesn’t care, but she does
‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ So she says behind smiles
‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎So I rewind miles
Back to my barracks
Sleepless nights in social distance
Tiny spaces of separation
Dysfunctional family
Oppressing me by their history
Of desert storms engulfed in war
My victimless destiny
Far from familiar tarmac
A million miles away
No going back now
My change was underway
Crossing the border twice
East to west, north to south
‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎ ‎‎ ‎‎Going back again
My hollow rind
My fruitless grind
An amphibious assault
Submerged within my fault
Surfacing my defenses
Sinking into my regressions
My amygdala high
Consuming to suppress
Every vice a press
Of my hardening —
An unbreakable stonework
Solidified sentiment
Rolling from one bed to another
Rolling, rolling, unresting
Awaking divine intervention
‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎ ‎‎ ‎‎Breaking me, scattering me
‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎ ‎‎ ‎‎Into pebbles of separation
‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎ ‎‎ ‎‎Of spiritual dissemination
Surrounded by light fixtures
Crucifying my vices
Speaking of God and His promises
‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎ ‎‎ ‎‎Breaking me into pieces
From lifeless dust
To her witnessing presence
‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎ ‎‎ ‎‎Leaning into my confession
‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎ ‎‎ ‎‎Molding new clay with gentleness
© Pixel Floyd 2025
*Originally published in Medium
I might be looking for something that’s not intentional, but I feel like your spacing is methodical. The last stanza especially, with the indented line ‘molding new clay’ is like a work in progress before returning to left-justified as if all put back together. Nice.
Such excellent poetry. The kind of piece you could just keep reading and feel sucked into something important.