Broken Bits

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a broken bit
among
broken bits
sharp cornered
embedded in the earth with all the other
broken bits
cries out with contention
“Potter!
How could you
make me so,
that I should lay here,
trodden underfoot,
a broken bit
among
broken bits!”

did it also say
as it was kneaded
moulded
and shaped
in the hands
of its maker
“What are you making?
I don’t know your hands. They must not exist. Are there no hands to hold, shape and fashion me?”

reaching in
pulling
out
the broken bit
among
broken bits
the potter lifts
the jagged shard
admiring the beauty
of its color
texture
and unique shape
he wipes away the dry caked on dirt
and admires how the broken bit now
shines with its makers reflection
placing it now tenderly
he fastens it among other
gloriously broken bits
and smiles with satisfaction
at his masterpiece.

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