I pinch and shape and mold this clay
To make a form that just won’t stay.
Working, smoothing, my hands perform,
Clay to vision seeks to conform.
It’s a vision of grace, that’s what I see,
Strong yet light the form will be.
Up I build with the force of touch,
But forces pulling down prove too much.
The clay too weak? My hands inept?
After all of this molding the form has not kept.
I step back and look at my hands…,
A new idea my heart commands,
Insight sprouts like a seed:
Another potter’s hands, that’s what I need!
Another potter’s hands to help craft the design!
Another potter’s hands molding with my own,
This self cannot be shaped alone.
Dwain Cassady
June 29, 1997