For even the softest metal can be shaped into something strong.
I Am Malleable
I thought I was stone,
Solid, unshaken.
But life pressed its hands into me,
And I bent…
Not like branches swaying in the wind,
But like metal in fire,
Warped and twisted,
Losing the shape I once knew.
I am malleable,
Too easily moulded by sorrow,
Too soft for the weight of the world.
Every touch leaves an imprint,
Every word, a dent in the surface.
I try to hold my form,
But I sink beneath the pressure,
Melting into something unrecognisable.
They say this means I can change,
That I can be remade.
But what if I don’t want to be?
What if I miss the shape I was,
Before life carved its mark.
But then I remember…
Gold is forged in fire,
Iron bent to build bridges,
And even glass, though fragile,
Can be melted into something new.
I do not want to be clay,
For hands that do not care,
But perhaps I can choose
Who shapes me next.
I am malleable,
But that does not make me weak.
It means I can bend,
But I will not break.
It means I can fall,
But I can rise again.
For even the softest metal,
Can be shaped into something strong,
And even in the hands of time,
I am not lost…
Only becoming!