The Potter

When he gave it to me
My image in porcelain,
He was a blind potter.
He touched my figure
Inch by inch
He illustrated
He realised the impossible
I

I travelled to China to find him again
On the way I was broken into two
One part, feet with stomach and so
The other, head and so

Mountains and cities
I crossed
Finding him was my hope
Once again
I hoped

In a field in sepia colour
He was next to me

 

 

 

Copyright © Adel Gorgy 2011 Photograph Anthology of Love
Cross-Cultural Communications Art & Poetry Series Broadsides # 49

“You died, my image
However, I shall bring you back
To celebrate being alive again"

“Praise the breath you take”
He said and spat
On my divided, he spat
The two halves he put together

The master potter
Gave me another chance

I am careful now.

—Nabil Naoum