Like clay in a potter’s hands,
I cradled your heart-
not to shape you,
but to help you find your form.
I turned the wheel gently,
steadying your rise,
never pressing too hard,
only watching, gently.
But a potter must not waver.
One tremor, one glance away-
and the soft shape collapsed,
folding into silence.
Now I sit with the dust,
wondering if the care,
the love was ever enough
to keep you whole.
Oct 26, 2025
Oct 26, 2025 at 10:42 AM UTC
Like clay in a potter’s hands,
I cradled your heart-
not to shape you,
but to help you find your form.
I turned the wheel gently,
steadying your rise,
never pressing too hard,
only watching, gently.
But a potter must not waver.
One tremor, one glance away-
and the soft shape collapsed,
folding into silence.
Now I sit with the dust,
wondering if the care,
the love was ever enough
to keep you whole.
