I am of the ground
lumpy and misshapen
not yet beautiful
but in the eye of your imagining
You knead me and you shape me
the image conceived in your mind now birthed in my body
its curves and edges sculpted under the careful caress of your fingers
its form reflecting the wonder of your genius
Like the clay in the potter’s hands
so am I in your hands
Post Views: 383
Related posts ...
TwoA poem I wrote at this morning's Deer Isle Writers' Group gathering ... two leaves two branches two towering maples two owls two seals two…
silenceit is not merely the notes that matter but the spaces between them and the silence four arms and four appended bows unmoving, suspended in…
CoronavirusCoronavirus coronavirus invisible ravager of bodies and economies ineluctable disrupter of culture and the social fabric insidious sower of dread and despair what you can’t…