Shadow And Light
A poem of contrition
If there are people in your town Who say I am a witch, clearly I did something to deserve it.
And if others there think That I’m some sort of saint I must have once done Something right, to earn it.
An earthen bowl once smashed On the flagstones of the courtyard Can never be made whole again.
But a new one can be fashioned From messy wet clay on The potter’s wheel of love And left to harden in the sun.





