The following poem is from the booklet, “Upwords”, and was written by a dear friend of mine. Enjoy!-anita
I was conceived in my mother’s womb, and then housed there for nine months.
There, I was fed, kept warm and protected from the elements of life.
The first hands I felt were the hands of the doctor. I don’t remember those hands.
Neither do I remember the hands that bathed me, cuddled me, wiped the snot from my nose or cleaned the wax out of my ears.
Nor the times that I was lotioned down and powdered by these same hands.
I remember the hands that spanked me though. So does my bottom. The hands that yanked me here and there. The hands that were rough and hard.
There were hands that taught me, directed me, and corrected me.
Hands that protected me and cleaned up my messes. Sometimes the hands would make me make a mess too.
I recall another pair of hands. Hands that meant evil and not good. Hands that worked around the clock to cause confusion, death, destruction, hopelessness and despair.
Those hands almost killed me, and would have if it had not been for another set of hands.
Through the journey of my life, I have come across many hands.
Some of those hands I enjoyed and some I did not.
However, there were some hands that stood out among them all.
Hands that were gentle and loving, hands that picked me up when I fell down.
Hands that carried me when I couldn’t walk. Hands that fed me when I was hungry.
Hands that clothed me when I was naked. Hands that wiped away tears that I hadn’t even shed yet. Hands that supported me.
These hands hung on a cross so that I could have eternal life. I will never forget these hands. These hands have changed my life. They resurrected me from death to life.
They shaped me, molded me, formed and fashioned me.
These hands were Master over all the other hands. As I recognized these hands,
I could see glimpses of them in a lot of the other hands that I experienced along the way.
I will forever remain in these hands…God’s Holy hands.
By: Toni L. Graham June 17, 2009