Where God Learned Hands
Where God Learned Hands
Because the heavens could not bend to every cry,
They shaped a pair of hands that never learned to fly.
So God grew nearer by departing, flesh and bone,
And called that nearness Mother, warm as home.
She waits where clocks grow tired of counting days,
Feeds time with breath, and names our fear by name.
Her love is not a sermon taught to stay,
But law made milk, and mercy taught to weigh.
When gods grow tall and distant in their light,
She kneels the dark and keeps the child in sight.
If prayer must walk, it learns her patient art,
To carry heaven quietly in the heart.
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