Uncontained

We mold ourselves to accommodate —
to fit the shelves —
to fit in.
What our curves, our flawed feet,
our watering mouths crave
is freedom —
to be uncontained —
to spill out of the top,
and to allow a steamy aroma of ginger root
and licorice to escape.
We could fill the room —
expand our energy
and dance on the dusty, pebble-filled road.

We cannot fathom why a blue swirl glaze
is preferred over our red jasper, earthy authenticity.
So, we cram ourselves into too-tight jeans.
We apply salicylic acid creams to blemished skin.
We cover up and tidy up.
We conform.

Now is the time to turn away from the mirror —
to embrace the cracks and the burnished patina.
Now is the time to wander back into the forest of self.
Only the self knows your true worth —
your glory.
Take the cluttered tools and utensils
off of the wall.
Disembark
and then soar.