Burnt Pot

There is always time
for generosity,
a place for kindness.
Each person has their story,
the suffering and cruel
alike in their humanness,
their need to be understood.
Heartbreak is common,
being seen a balm.
Take a steel pad
to the burnt pot of the world
and scrub the char
until the metal shines.
Below every scarred face
a child,
behind every child
a mother,
before every mother
the endless;
generosity is gift to the giver,
kindness the repayment for a soul.




11 Responses to “Burnt Pot”

  1. Perfect in every way…

  2. Eilish says:

    Really beautiful dad

  3. Pat Fitzsimmons says:

    Oh boy, this one really wants to soak in for a while…..I think I’ll let it!
    Thank you Don

  4. John Albright says:

    Gift to the giver…this goes way below the surface, under the burnt and reveals great beauty. Thanks for showing me your soul, Don

  5. Stan Grindstaff says:

    Scrub on Don!

  6. Tom Figel says:

    Don, simple and clear as the poem is, it expresses a great truth. You give us something fine to read and something wonderful to do. Thanks.

  7. Andrew Shier says:

    I felt like I was reading the Tao Te Ching, my friend. Your words bless and uplift with their simplicity and kindness. I enjoy starting my day with your heart.

  8. Silver Osprey says:

    Thank you for the blessing

  9. David Banner says:


  10. John says:

    Lovely, Don — “Shared” on my Facebook page.

  11. Paul Blythe says:

    Yes, our charred world needs a good scrub after years if self-centered neglect.

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