Gnarled

gnarled hands ignited, with the maelstrom of belief. knotty knees do bend. unseen, the heavens opened up, did look beyond the darkness of earth, to see a pin drop. ancient one, in the gnarled woods, God is drawn to you. the straw in haystack - most dwellers go through back doors, but she’s kneels in church - with bent frame, eyes shut, a prayer shawl around shoulders, cold, yet immersed in light. with lanterns, she joins others in trimming their wicks - firestorm of belief. a humble leader - behold, lifetime membership in peaceful dwelling. many are the weeds - celebrate on holidays, they’re pregnant with bread and wine. she’s not at the bar - look for her at the altar with her rough gnarled hands. on arthritic knees, she’s closest to the Savior - he sees her asking and He draws closer to see ev’ry tear that falls begging “one more soul…” Christ gives her what she asks for.