Play dough
fingers push
dimples form
shape erupts
then folds over
squeezing tight
massage, caress
pulled and torn
complete duress
again rejoined
fingerprints adorn
i am reborn.
Life can feel like play dough sometimes. Pinched and pulled, folded and smooshed, poked and prodded and left in a lump to harden and crack in the afternoon sun. Ugly and unremarkable.
Until a whisper on the wind reminds me...
You are not ordinary.
You are extraordinary.
The flaws that you see,
Are fingerprints, left by me.
You are beautiful.
And so are you.
fingers push
dimples form
shape erupts
then folds over
squeezing tight
massage, caress
pulled and torn
complete duress
again rejoined
fingerprints adorn
i am reborn.
Life can feel like play dough sometimes. Pinched and pulled, folded and smooshed, poked and prodded and left in a lump to harden and crack in the afternoon sun. Ugly and unremarkable.
Until a whisper on the wind reminds me...
You are not ordinary.
You are extraordinary.
The flaws that you see,
Are fingerprints, left by me.
You are beautiful.
And so are you.
I found this poem here: http://www.waystationone.com/2009/08/play-dough.html and just found it such a beautiful reminder of God's influence in our lives. I loved the idea that His fingerprints are left on us with each experience we have, the good and the bad.
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