Watching the teacher-potter at the wheel
so easy it appears.
Now, I'm the potter
the wheel resists.
The clay which I yearn to mold
unfriendly
uncooperative
non-centered
flies off the wheel.
My cup-to-be
carefully I press three fingers
down the center of the mass of clay
as it slowly turns on the wheel.
A hole appears in the bottom of my cup!
My cup handle
no simple task
falls off
breaks away
the forming clay
either too thick
or too thin.
Am I having fun yet?
Slowly a pot begins to emerge
humps
bumps
lumps
Like the Divine Potter
creativity happens
slabs of clay
worm-like coils
sculptured forms
a variety of hues
from the firing kiln.
O Compassionate Potter
create us anew
in the palm of your hand.