The world in my hands

The world is too much
My hands can’t hold enough
My hands, I, can not hold anything 
This vessel

Shaped like a human

Woman

Child

Sister

Friend
Is broken
Shattered and there’s no putting back the pieces
Sometimes 

One has to wonder

Why it’s worth trying

Because 

Really 

The vessel was ridiculously flawed

From the start
Have you ever seen 

Pottery made by imbeciles?

Lopsided,

Misshapen,

Ugly to behold,

A miracle it stands and makes it through 

The kiln’s fire
Well, this vessel didn’t

It’s in shatters

Tatters

Torn

Wrought 

Shards of ugly fired clay

That will not

Can not

Be put back together again 
And anyway 

What’s the point?

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One thought on “The world in my hands

  1. I often feel why…damage done. My absence could help. Pain fatigue hostage lonely. You won’t catch it. But you don’t want to be around it. Not fun..for me either.

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