Poem: IN POTTER’S HAND | Mariya Vettickal, Kothamangalam

I am like a clay crushed in the potter’s hand
Which escapes through the fingers gap
Still get gathered and molded again

I’m like a clay unaware of” why being crushed”?
Neither none explain
But to remain as speechless and submissive
It cause pain , patience and endurance

I’m like a clay ,finds a figure of shape in self
Overwhelmed with joy and happiness flashed in mind that
Here comes the end of suffering

Instead it’s been thrown into the blazing furnace,cried for help
Burned all wishes ,dreams and worldly nature
No choice but to be silent and surrendered

Through the furnace,here comes a pot in Potter’s hand
Completely formed spotless vessel
Chosen to bear name of the Maker.

Mariya Vettickal, Kothamangalam

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