Our love was held in a priceless artifact,
Exquisitely and skillfully formed.
It was so full that it spilled out.
We wished we could bottle it and give it away
To those who didn’t seem to have enough.
When the hand of death snatched you away,
It was not the beautiful pitcher that broke.
It was my heart that shattered.
Countless pieces, sharp shards,
Piercing me at every moment and movement.
Can the broken be mended and restored?
Artisans reassemble broken pottery,
Filling the cracks with liquid gold.
The damaged piece leaves their hands
Stronger and more beautiful than before.
Will the divine potter, master craftsman,
Reassemble my heart, remake me?
Can I emerge stronger and more beautiful?
More conformed to the image of His Son?
Can my heart be mended with gold?
A vlog of the same title can be found on youtube: @ruthchapin8805
