Wednesday, December 06, 2006
Prologue: I’ve got a two month old grandson and looking at his tiny hands I was reminded of a Graham Kendrick lyric “hands that flung stars into space – to cruel nails surrendered”. Took a leap to the manger and looked at that child’s hands.
These hands, tiny, wrinkled,
waiting to grow but older than time,
these hands made life from nothing
fashioned universes from thought and word.
These hands built hill and mountain,
conjured creatures that roar and scare.
These hands poured mighty oceans from a jug of plenty
and designed fish to explore their depths.
These hands touched earth with warmth and light,
breathed winds that chill and breezes that caress.
These hands, confined in childform,
have always been, will always be.
clutching mothers fingers in limpet grip,
created the mother who holds him fragile
against her body for mutual comfort.
These hands hold destiny in their palm
and offer to grip biting iron
in blinding pain.
These are resolute hands,
healing hands, hands to lead the blind,
hands to inspire the weak,
to encourage the poor.
These hands, mighty enough to demand,
strong enough to force,
reach out to you
Posted by Keith Wallis at 5:35 pm