By Tom Mortimer

As I opened wide the door
And cautiously looked around
The whirr of the Potter's wheel
Created such a beautiful sound
His feet would pump the wheel
As His fingers worked the clay
As He finished each piece an angel
Would swoop down and carry it away
And as I got closer I began to realize
That these were people His hands would mold
They were white and black and yellow
From the very young to the very old
He would pick up the broken pieces
That were scattered around His chair
His hands would gently caress them
As He showered them with a tear
And as all the pieces would come together
I began to understand
How our broken lives are mended
Just by reaching for His hand
So as the door closed quietly behind me
I walked over to His chair
He picked me up and held me gently
And now I'm drowning in His tear

Copyright © Tom Mortimer.

(The poem is available to general media, publications and webmasters under condition that the author's name and the link to www.paulmurphybooks.com will be provided under the poem.)

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