God, You formed me. With Your bare hands You scooped the dirt and as the clay fell through Your mighty fingers, You began to sculpt me.
I was formed and the earth was perfect. But I was alone. You gave me tasks to occupy me, but I was incomplete.
You saw that I needed more, but how could You know?
I hadn’t said it. Indeed, I was unaware of my emptiness until You filled me as I fell asleep.
As I dreamt, You took a piece from my side, You pulled me apart.
This physical hole You left in me, it wasn’t painful, it was welcomed.
I awoke to the sound of Your voice: Here she is, she will make you whole.
And whole I was made.
I was formed and the earth was perfect. But I was alone. You gave me tasks to occupy me, but I was incomplete.
You saw that I needed more, but how could You know?
I hadn’t said it. Indeed, I was unaware of my emptiness until You filled me as I fell asleep.
As I dreamt, You took a piece from my side, You pulled me apart.
This physical hole You left in me, it wasn’t painful, it was welcomed.
I awoke to the sound of Your voice: Here she is, she will make you whole.
And whole I was made.
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