I Have No Recollection Of Who Poem by Mark. A Heathcote

I am filtered between the cracks of my soul.
Like a broken urn unearthed.
With the remnants of the ashes
That once danced in the flames
The hands that hold me now and shape me
In the past, they were firm but gently placed around me.

I feel the clay that once formed my entire body warming.
It resembles a memory of a loved one.
But I have no recollection of who.
But I hear a recognisable voice inaudible to many.
Whispering, don't worry; I won't drop you.
And I know exactly how to fix all those cracks.