His gentle Caring Hands
His Hands
Over the course of time we encounter many feats of greatest design
They are very close in comparison to the tallest of tallest buildings
We also encounter feats in which are small like a lady bug
In either case, it weighs on our mind within uncertain of the outcome
In these time we rely on the touch of the blanket of hope
Reassuring us with a just a slide of hand
Adrenaline flows through our veins as if the gates had been opened
A premonition occurs in our brain that we will prevail without haste
We stand facing this feat and overcome it
At night as I lie in the darkness staring at what surrounds me
A feeling ripples through my body, a tear begins to fall
Something brushes my shoulder as to say “I am here”
Dried faced and tired I seal my eyes to release my wakefulness
For I know I am protected from all that is unfortunate
I am never alone in my alertness, nor slumber
His touch is equal to the softness of a baby’s bottom
To see the hands that possesses this touch
You would not believe it is possible
Unkind markings from an afflicted past
No rest for these hands at any time
Age do they not, always there reaching out
I will always be happy to have know these hands
Never forgetting the strength they forecast
The evidence of neither selflessness nor warmth they bring forth
