The cup rests warm in the bearer's hands
inviting a swirl fragrant sniff
to savor the wine, palm cupped
a pause before drinking
raising glass to lips
tilting the cup
heavenwards
to taste
head
laid
back
acquiescent
in ritual revelry
night
anywhere
that
she goes
into
the
sweet light
with
cupped hands
and
broken hearts
Heard a voice, “Look into my hollow hand”
I saw a large hand, a cupped right hand
I sensed this hand covering the earth in his hand
My Karma or deeds have been answered indeed.
For wisdom and love in the hollow of his hands
When on this earth finally my life ends
I will fly to the Lord’s land on a dove’s wings
To reach safe and sound to his heavenly premises.
Whatever betide me, His hand will guide
Will hold my head high, why should I hide?
To enjoy closely all the heavenly things with pride
And purity of His elements, water, air, and light.
In cupped hands you hold a world of scented butterflies
where time hangs from a golden thread spun with tears and night
where nasturtiums grow from seeds of laughter
and there is warmth over the rainbow.
In cupped hands you see a castle hovering in the air
with domes of silver pointing toward a world that lies beyond
with long-drawn windows shaped like almond eyes
that wink and call upon a winding wind.
In cupped hands you preserve an unspoken dream
that is stilled in a cosmos pool dappled with sunlight
that may all be lost with just a jerk of your fingers
and shatter into illusions of watercolor paintings.
In cupped hands you nestle the lost ending to a song
In cupped hands you hold a glimpse of what is real.
Aspen trees receiving
Your sweet blue rain
In cupped-hands
Glory be to God
The bounty of sweet rain
Brings joyful tears
Through the cupped-hands
Of the heartland farmers
Lord, we sing out,
In your sweet name
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