Wednesday, January 09, 2008

Echoes

Echoes of the sea
washed up
empty.

Downcast and broken
potter's efforts all in vain
incomplete.
Pieces strewn:
puzzles of fear and failure,
hurt and anger,
jumbled, worthless.

The potters smile
reveals all is not lost,
this is but the forming:
unfired, malleable,
work in progress.
So here I am again,
knowing
I'm bruisedand tattered,
but in the healing hands
of the master potter.

1 comment:

donna said...

oh how true for so many of us..yet our greatest comfort is knowing we are,indeed, in the hands of the master potter. Blessings to you Keith.

donna