Water Bearer
Each dawn before the sun devoured the shade
and seared the arid land, a potter strode
down to the well along a dusty road
to fill a well-used water jar he’d made.
As he returned one day a stranger said,
“Your jar is fractured. Anyone can see
you waste your time and labour fruitlessly.
The water spills along the track you tread.”
The potter answered, “Though it leaks, it still
retains enough for me and I would not,
for all its flaws, discard my battered pot.
It has a special purpose to fulfil.”
Where he had passed a radiant display
of flowers danced to greet the breaking day.
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