Deborah Seale Poet Rhyme

Hands Open

I held the broken pieces tight,

Afraid of what the empty space would bring,

Confusing the shadows for light,

And clinging to a bruised and brittle thing.

I prayed for eyes to truly see,

Then turned away when truth began to speak.

Making excuses, bargaining to be

The anchor for a bond already weak.

How easily the heart defends

The familiar ache of carrying what is gone,

Calling it love when someone bends

The spirit until quiet peace is torn.

Yet mercy worked beneath the grief.

The sudden silence wasn’t cold neglect;

It was a shelter, a swift relief,

A sacred wall the Father did erect.

Not every traveler along the way

Is meant to walk the path where grace resides;

Some doors are closed so we don’t stray,

Some hands unclasped to stem the rising tides.

So now I loosen every plea.

I yield the ache, the wondering, the strain

Trusting God, who rescues me

Who never creates a hollow space in vain.

© Deborah Seale 2026

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