My Hands

 

Sometimes I fear the damage is too permanent

Sometimes I worry the wounds are too deep

The gates that close me in were forged by blood stained hands

Broken hands that grasped for uncontainable sands

These arthritic and mutilated hands

My hands

I fear that I am my worst enemy

Should I even try if my trying be in vain?

I see the testimonies around me

But am I exempt?

My outfit is put together

But my insides are unkempt

I look to God but I have no idea what to expect

His answer was simple and intangible

It was deeper than feeling

But I felt it

In the presence of His unending being

I knew He was it

It was Him

It was always Him

For Him I’d jump into oceans

Knowing good and well I can’t swim

But He won’t let the waters overwhelm me

Dangerous beating waves become gentle caresses

He is the healing I was waiting for

He is the wholeness I seek

He’s the intangible sands of time

I’ve been grasping for

He’s the tearing down of gates

The healing of broken hands

My hands

One Reply to “My Hands”

  1. When worry and stress try to settle in, He’ll comfort you and give you peace of mind. The eternal sands of time!

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