The Potter's House

"Go!" was what I heard.

    "No buts, no ifs, or ands,

      No whining either.

         Just get up and go."

            So I up and went

to the potter's house.

In a place of wet clay  

     sat a bearded man,

       the ancient of days

        was surely his name

           And so, I said,

"Old One, here I am."

"Been waiting," he said,

    "What took you so long?"

        My head was spinning,

          no words did I know,

            so I sat to watch

the hands, wheel, the clay.

"Why the potter's house?

    Why did You say 'Go?' 

       There is nothing here,

         but the smell of clay

           and this bearded one

who has nothing to say."

"Watch, be quiet, be still,"

     spoke the voice of "Go!"

       Through the day we sat,

         He, the potter, and I.

           Nary a sound was heard,

but wet spinning clay.

"Damn!' the potter cried.

    "That won't do," he said

        as he stopped the wheel,

          took the messed up clay

            in his hands like dough

and started over again.

In my watching I knew

   why the voice said, "Go!"

     The potter's house, the place

       where the Word of God

         is heard by those who fear 

they might be thrown away.

       

(Jeremiah 18:1-6)