The Hand of Another


To hold the hand of another,
To keep your head down and heart up,
You can pray this way,
You can work this way.
When a name is only a name,
And a smile a thousand crowns,
We weave our hearts together in toil,
To maybe weave our lives closer to God,
We reach for the hand that is silent,
The one whose voice could not carry,
The one locked in the prison of imperfect,
Where nothing makes sense in the dark.
But when a hand reaches for another,
The magic is passed by a squeeze and smile
And whispers a hope, “I’ll stay a while.”
When hearts beat to the same rhythm,
When the blood of humanness courses as one,
There is a comfort in that place,
A place where the Spirit sings,
A melody that makes our spirits glad,
If even for a moment, the fragrance lingers on.
It reminds us softly like a dream,
Of a place we so want to call home.
So we work to keep moving,
We seek the straight path,
That leads us home if only for a while,
To the beginning and the end of all that is us,
Found in the hand of another,
The essence of infinite love,
Left as a promise to fill our lamps,
Trimmed for the day we leave imperfect behind,
And find our home where hearts beat as one.
The path home is marked by the hand of another…


One thought on “The Hand of Another

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