On the Wheel

I'm unbalanced
Clay on a wheel
Pitching one way --
Then the next.
Waiting for the potter
To center me,
Steady me.
Hold me still,
While my life turns
On the world's axis,
He holds me
In the universe
Of His hand.
Washing me clean,
Shaping me into a vessel,
Changing me,
It's an uneasy process...
An impurity in my clay
Can make me pitch
Side to side,
And the potter begins
Again and again
Until I am whole
And centered
In His hand.