A Poem to Celebrate Your Potential


When we limit, or worse – label – ourselves, we close ourselves into a box – a small, four-walled room. One where we cannot fully stretch, see sky, or feel wind, rain, sun. We are told by society, by our families, and then eventually, by ourselves – who we are. We start to believe that we are not capable. We become defined by what we think we can or cannot do. By doing this, by buying into it, we restrict ourselves.


When have you allowed this to happen? Maybe it is happening now in your life . . .




Burst through the confines of labels. The four chambered heart has so much more potential, so much more room to breathe, beat and grow, versus the box we sometimes place our lives inside of.



“To uncover your true potential, you must first find your own limits and then you have to have the courage to blow past them.” -Picabo Street




The Potter’s Wheel


Our past


fire turned to ashes


And we, alchemy at its best


transform to gold.


The heat


The hammering of parts that stick out


just a bit too far to be called beauty


Molded we are in earth’s turning hands


We all, on pottery wheel,






One hand comes upon us, a new shape takes form


We spin, spin, spin


More water of time added so we don’t harden, or worse, crack


Not time for kiln yet –


still being designed.


Moving in circles


Orbiting around us,


Those we love, like, dislike, don’t even know


A stranger can come along, place a caress upon us


Turn us faster, lift up a drooping edge


While someone who claims to care can approach


with a fist to flatten


Or fingers to pinch,


creating edges, lines that may need a smoother embrace.


We find ourselves in loving,


capable shaping hands once again


echo of past touch leaves a thumbprint,


Mark that may remain


a place that others will run through one day


Life, that turning potter’s wheel.


Continue to move


Yes, fire can turn us


deeper into a solid shape


So that we may be painted, flowers gifted inside


Or perhaps a pitcher to pour clear, clean water


Set upon a beautiful table


Serving loved ones that come to dine


Oh the shapes we can take!


Perhaps you are a bowl,


collecting jewelry at day’s end


Or a jar, a jug, a pot for climbing ivy


a plate for mixed greens


All so different.


Cracks can become beauty,


unique qualities seen as divine


Where light can enter and water can trickle from –


Never a flaw


But a way out, through, in.


The spinning wheel


They say a potter throws her clay


Tosses it, and there it takes shape in air


Wings spread out from vision of breath








Alchemy at its best


The wheel, the fire, the hands, all work together


Turning clay into creation


What will you become on this potter’s wheel of life?


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