Beryl A. Ouma Poet Free verse

Heal Your Hands

Your hands were fashioned for the service of God,

to touch the places once torn

until they remembered how to heal.

 

They were to measure every triumph

against the emptiness

that quietly waits to consume the proud,

lest achievement become an altar

and the soul's sacrifice.

 

Your hands were made to bless,

never to curse;

to gather the broken,

not scatter those

whom God entrusted to your care.

 

They were created to build bridges

for the feet of generations yet unborn,

to leave pathways of hope

where others might safely walk.

 

Your hands were to mirror

the handiwork of the Creator;

bringing life,

cultivating beauty,

lifting burdens,

and restoring what sorrow had undone.

 

Never were they meant

to weather in destruction

or become instruments of ruin.

 

So, heal the work of your hands.

let mercy reshape what anger has broken,

let love redeem what pride has wounded,

until every touch bear witness

to the goodness of God.

 

And every work of your hands

becomes a blessing

long after your own hands

have come to rest.

 

To feel the places that once were torn to heal.

they were to measure every achievement against the emptiness awaiting destruction

your hands were to bless, not to curse.

To comfort and not to tear apart those whom God has bestowed upon you, His blessings.

Your hands were meant to create bridges, for the reach of those coming after you.

your hands were to reflect God’s handy work

and not to weather in destruction.

Heal the works of your hands to bliss.

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