I Am But A Broken Vessel

Leti Diaz

Father, here I am a clay pot,

chipped, old and worn,

I see the other vessels, tall golden, silver,

and so beautifully shown.

Why Lord am I chipped and broken?

My Child:

As a child I molded you, strong tall and beautiful,

Then the pressure of the clay, broken and chipped away.

I had to remold, re-fire and take away,

I had to take away the heavy burden, the old

ways of doing, learning and thinking.

One day, you’ll stay and be the beautiful golden vessel,

But now, you see I can mold, shape and use the clay,

Not the golden vessels, they are complete;

no more chipped or broken clay.