Raku (A Poem)

 Raku 

 

Choosing to love him was not my choice 

The fire broke everything I believed I controlled 

The air that surrounded me disappeared 

I was left to smother in the coals 

 

Formed, I was. Treated as mere thick clay 

Never giving my consent, only shown the end 

Told, more than asked. I was led, I was worked 

Milled and shaped, pounded even, hardened 

 

Why me God? I beg to know Your mind 

Why should I continue rolling in searing flame 

To become the pot, the vase, the urn? 

Will You use me then? Will I hold? Embrace? 

 

You are the Potter. I am your clay. I know this 

You choose, I listen. You will, I bow 

The prayers, the time, the years, the faith 

I understand You’ve planned, I follow 

 

Until the last pyre I remain incomplete 

Knowing there will be blessings, I agree 

Knowing he needs me to continue  

To lift his soul through the pain of my own firing 

 

You are the Potter. I am your clay. 

My destined colors will forge with time 

Your strength is given in my making  

I am who You have decided to create  

 

If my mission is to pray, I bow my head 

Your command is well within my power 

Power given by the One and accepted in whole 

Raku me. To be the vessel You desire 

 

Jude Stringfellow 

April 9 2022 

Photo Credit: Rbfinearts.com