Friday, February 13, 2009

Poems happen...

The stone digs deeper,
Harsh, abrasive
Scooping out a hollow,
Making a shell of what once seemed full.
Why a bowl?
I was happy as a lump of wood,
Waiting, formless.
Testifying to nothing but that I was,
And He who made me IS.
But, scoop, rub, scour, sand,
I am empty,
Waiting to be filled.
I will hold something greater than myself,
And pour it forth to those in need.


Eric said...

WOW. I had to read it twice to take meaning out of it, but I love it! Very good metaphor to a larger truth.

Jerri Phillips said...

This is beautiful!