“Like clay was the sand in my fingers, moulding into hooded, echoing figures. Past clay voices mixed with sea water, gurgling words of anger and blame. I now smear sand clay upon my dress, white linen heavy with new marks. I carry the harsh voices as I spin around and open my arms to the lighthouse. [New Clay Linen]” MindBodySpiritSpiritualityCourageDeterminationSpiritual GrowthSpiritual AwakeningNew Clay LinenWhite Linen Book:Bare Spirit: The Selected Poems of Susan Marshall Source: Bare Spirit: The Selected Poems of Susan Marshall