I have spent much time at the potter’s
Wheel, becoming marred in his hands,
Falling from grace, but with a love so strong
He left me not that way, forming me into
Another vessel.
With rotating, circular motion, making me
Dizzy with the busy motion.
Taking his paddle with a scoop of clay tempering
It on his spinning wheel. The process hurts,
His knife scraping away the unneeded clay.
Baking me again in the furnace of affliction,
Shaping me as seemed best to him.
I have become a new vessel in the hand of the
Potter.
Are not we all earthen vessels,
Chards of broken clay
Lying upon the earth for
All to see
Since that good and evil
Tree?
Fractured minds, injured
Souls
Enclosed in an earthen
Vessel
Filled with holes
Coffer’s of treasures
Not of silver or gold
Hold those chosen to
Unfold
The suffering
Of this earth’s souls
~~~
“Like clay in the hand of the potter
So are you in My hand”
Jeremiah 18:6 in God’s Word
Donna's Poetry Blog 