“Shall the clay say to the potter, you have no skill?”

Let me be alive
to the touch which forms me,
the firm impress of understanding,
the subtle nuance of guidance

Let me thrill to the imparting
of my sense of who I am –
where I mesh, what I am called to,
what I can do

There is glory
in the constant contact –
smooth rippling, light catching, life sparking,
there is peace in knowing
I’m in my creator’s hands.

©Wendy Mulhern
October 1, 2020