The Potter’s House at VA Beach, VA

The Potter’s House

I stood before the crowd and bared my soul for all.

Category ∙ Poetry Collection on ILLUMINATION ∙ Subcategory ∙ Poetic Prose by Keira Fulton-Lees ∙ Title ∙ THe Potter’s House

Acceptance of feared glances, tormentor of my dreams, I threw my admissibility upon the floor, knowing then no chance ever advances beyond how it’s perceived. The indefinite reflected into seeds growing wild. Inciting rile, but was the mere chattering of all the thoughts we can recall. My Anxiety calmed, as there was always Paul waiting for us all, and always warmed my trepid thoughts, with nothing more than a nod.

I stood before the crowd and bared my soul for all, not just for them, but more for me, to lock the vault of mistakes and faults from a past I feared most of all. At Potter’s House, the clay is turned to form the conspicuous. The final call where dead end roads meet when there’s no other place to turn at all. I came to this room filled with tears, overflowing with baggage heavier than I could haul. Be it God, a higher power, or not at all, but it’s something bigger than us all.

And in the aisles, the strangers filed, profiled and stripped me of false beliefs. An inner scream grew in me, “Is this receptivity?” With I the target, their aim to lock contact with my eyes. But, my eyes were vacant, taking me farther than my eyes could see. Provoked by the unspoken, the broken, the need for a release, though broken words, all was said, all was heard, despite my lack of social protocol.

That moment my soul grew cursory, quite unlike my detailed self. Through which came devotion to retrieve my thoughts down from the hidden shelf. To be grounded, to be aligning, noting with my data mining. The marginal seemed of happy linings, the cooled cosmetic calm, with such passion for outlining if but for no reason at all.

And while I spoke, I felt trespassing as if I were not my property. The ominous unity foregoing as one while shaking and withdrawn. I dreamed of accordance passing, of chords that are surpassing, instead, I uncovered the determination, the answer to my call. As the answer fell upon me I’m not broken. I’m uniquely different, oh yes a red hot mess, but never ever less, just atypical, a miracle, knowing that I too can be proud of myself – As long as I never listen to the call of the bottle that screams of certain death.


¹ “Potter’s House is Virginia Beach United Methodist Church’s signature outreach ministry, serving the Oceanfront and larger Virginia Beach community since the late 1990s.

Potter’s House is staffed and operated by volunteers, and its budget is based solely on contributions from Communion Sunday collections and other donations throughout the year. Financial and material support is also provided by private companies and organizations in the community.

Potter’s House collaborates with other local churches and non-profits to create a support system for individuals experiencing homeless and the working and non-working poor by striving to assist them with their immediate needs.”


¹ Potter’s House. Retrieved 03:59, August 6, 2020 from


The Potter’s House – Virginia AA

Location 1709 Pacific Avenue
Virginia Beach, VA 23451 Sunday meetings

Tuesday meetings

Friday meetings

Category ∙ Poetry Collection on ILLUMINATION ∙ Subcategory ∙ Poetic Prose by Keira Fulton-Lees ∙ Title ∙ THe Potter’s House

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Keira Fulton-Lees

Artfully Autistic Advocate for Autism, Writer, Editor, Artist, Musician, Owner of the Medium Publication: Artfully Autistic: