A Poem to Celebrate Your Potential

poem-true-potentail

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,

 
 

Turn

 
 

Slowly

 
 

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

 
 

Wide

 
 

Expansive

 
 

light

 
 

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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