HANDS

Patty cake bakery
Baker man!
You use flour
We, only our hands

Here’s the church
Here’s the steeple
Open the door
And see all the people.

Hands for play
Are the children’s
All day.
See the little hands grow.

Hands for holding,
Connecting our hearts
As we skip and sway
Holding rope to jump
Our little hearts pump
As older folks look on.

Then to school
Hands hold their
First tool.
The golden rule
Crafting letters
Spelling out our days

Crayons, our delight,
Take away the fright
Of growing,
Gliding us down
Rainbows to pots
Of gold!

Some hands learn
to lead,
Others are better
At loving
The noblest of hands
Are the ones that heal.

All kinds of poverty
Teach innocent hands
To fight
Awaiting the gracious
Hands that heal
While striving for
Their right
Searching for the light

Praying hands of
The Older ones
Pray unceasingly
For the children
For love slipping away

Let thy hands be grace
With fingers like lace
Covering a broken world
With healing and beauty
For a better day.

Poem 7

SLEEPING WITH DEAD SOLDIERS
This 4th of July is disturbing to me. So, I cried. I tried making sense of it all as I found myself:
He tasted sea salt
Somehow feeling nothing
Feet and legs overhead
Noise was awful

Poem 8

POPCORN JESUS
I was making popcorn the other night. It gave me opportunity to express much that I have learned from a lifetime of believing what I was taught about God before I began to listen to what He was telling me in my spirit.
Deep inside His skillet
The searing heat swells
It is a hell of sorts
The only hell
He ever made