Crucible

I bend to be formed,
not torn or broken
but tempered by heat,
a fire so hot
the white is all
You see of me.

I said “change” and “grow”
and I’m bent so low
this shape of me
is screaming--
melting brass in Your
hands, forged by
tools so strong
I fear the breaking.

But I'm bound to bend,
be shaped, sheared
shown anew
the sound of me,
the shine of me,
gleaming  glory.
Yes, choosing to bend
not break,
become the beautiful
breath of sudden sound
built by your Spirit (breath)
living notes
played through me
a golden song borne on the wind....
~~~~~~~~~~
a re-post from the Archives, lo, three years ago

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