The Sculptor

By D. R. DiFrancesco

You found me,
Strewn amongst your clay,
Shapeless, crying for form,
Undefined by nature,
A blank slate with which to create.

You knead me,
With water and warmth you gave me substance,
You carved and cut with a gentle artists touch,
Careful not to go too deep,
I might bleed.

You cared for me,
Soothing my jaggedness,
With your compassionate caress,
You soften my rough edges,
Leaving me smooth and cultivated.

You loved me,
Being sure to hold me close,
So that I would never shatter,
My sculpture complete,
You’ve polished my hardened exterior.

My love for you,
Embodied in the kindness of your spirit,
You have made me whole,
The shape and form of who I hoped to be,
Under the hallowed hands of a sculptor.

2 thoughts on “The Sculptor

  1. This is a powerful image – we are all being ‘kneaded’ by life, and our shape is determined by so many factors. Love has the potential to make of us something great! On another note, I see that some of your posts which I have ‘liked’ aren’t recording my visits – just so you know that I have been visiting… 🙂

    • Thank you so much for your kind comment and letting me know that you have “liked” my poetry. I believe that none of us are ever through being kneaded by life and the circumstances that we are handed.

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