As though mere forceful hands, unseen
Can hold, opposed, the world between
Two choices: how we spend our days
That mark our legacies. The ways
We hold; or care; or wound; or fight;
Conferring shelter, growth or blight.
We get to choose which shelt’ring hand
Will serve as raiment, as we stand
To offer neighbors hate or love;
Our compass sourced: within; above.
The need is great; the conflicts, rife;
Our own hands can gift health or strife.
So given this, we dare apply;
Our choice of greater hands is nigh.
The options fraught, these hands engage
Our natures’ aspects (love or rage).
And with our souls’ made quick’ning choice
We hear pained cries or hearts’ soft voice.
But cries seek help, if we can heed;
To answer, we must see the need
Created by the riven’d scorn
As wounds that serve as clothing, worn
Are healed by Grace-full, loving Source.
We choose to pass these gifts: the course
Of how these hands, embraced, can feed
Where God’s within: that greatest need.
So may we seek the health within,
As we acknowledge we’ve been given
The chance to transform hateful blight
To healing shelter, loving light.
Stephen Bolles
All rights reserved
2019