By Yasen Vedrin
(The Copper Bowl)
Deep words of truth today I will declare,
And let the one who reads them understand.
The Heavens can be touched, as in a prayer,
And God is found again just by a hand.
The hand creates, and carries, and caresses.
The hand reaches to pull the drowning man.
The hand will light the fire that reassures,
And will not flee from trials in life’s span.
The hand gives generously, with a shine,
When to the poor it shows its mercy true.
The hand will welcome even nails malign,
Though blood is shed until the death ensues.
The hand prepares the fragrant bread to eat,
Or begs for small, cheap coins along the way.
It wipes the tears away in dark defeat,
When someone wants to cry their grief away.
The hand is a sanctuary for a gift.
A mirror for each sacrifice untold.
Closed in a palm, an altar it will lift.
Stretched out, it is salvation to behold.
And let it ever be, through all our days,
Inspired for the Will of God above!
The hand… The hand of Grace and holy ways!
Creating love,
And born of purest Love…
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