Sorely fashioned by a senile crone,
emerged I, from a lifeless lump of clay.
By rote, he formed me with his callused hands–-
work mechanical, devoid of passion.
Pressed, cut, shaped and scored,
and then the glaze.
Undistinguished nor beloved, a lowly form.
Functional tool, bore I daily use and wear:
a chip, a crack, a scratch, my color worn.
Still not identified amid the crowd,
resting too near the sloping edge I fell,
shattered and not fit to fill the mold.
The shards and scraps of me were spilled and scattered,
littered dust with treasures manifold.
I fashioned myself from the broken pieces.
Some were mine, while others foreign born.
I am no longer subject to the potter.
Mosaic juxtaposed, I am my own.

I haven’t written a poem in over a decade, people! This one came to me today as I was driving. I was contemplating how to describe my present condition of faith to a potential audience (on Facebook) of people who knew me as a conforming conservative with “bible based” beliefs. Anyways, this is what developed. Probably still not an overt statement and maybe not super clear, but it will serve its purpose as I reintroduce myself on Facebook.

View to get a behind the scenes look at how the poem developed.

About Author

Standing ground for desire through self-study of philosophy and psychoanalysis, self-reflection, and creative sublimation through the work of literary fiction.

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4 Comments

  1. “I fashioned myself from the broken pieces.” Absolutely love it. Best wishes as you reintroduce yourself on FB.

      1. Me: Posting about the most important thing in the world which I’m sure everyone will realize is a life changing revelation
        Almost everyone: Oh that’s nice, next

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