Michael Jones

May 1, 2019

Without warning I hit the ground 
The vase shattered into a thousand pieces 
My heart bleeds sharp shards of glass
I look about in horror at the ruins.

How did this happen? 
Was I pushed or did I fall?
Isn’t there a story about a Potter?
Who can heal one and all?

I gather the strewn pieces
A pile of brokenness forms 
My heart is caked in choking dust
From all the wicked storms

I slowly begin to realize 
This vase will never be the same. 
The old one lost forever. 
I have only me to blame.

To repair it call me Frankenstein, 
Cracked and scarred and weak
To do nothing, I’m still shattered 
I hemorrhage; now I leak.

Can the Potter perform a miracle?
Can old clay blend with new?
Can the disaster be reversed?
And form a brand new you?

Fire up the ancient kiln. 
Let the Reformation start. 
Mold and shape me by Your Truth
To form a brand new heart.

Reform the shattered vase O’Lord
Let grace and peace reside 
Pour into me to pour into You. 
Make my narrow places wide.

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