finding grace

My generous hands

forgot how to pray.

I watched the butterfly

rise on strong winds

hoping that in the opening

and closing

of her silent wings

I might remember.

 

My heart is vacant

it lost all the words

And I've been searching-

some kind of bizarre

Easter egg hunt

for what

I can't name.

 

My knees tremble-

ache-to please again.

But my hands won't remember

and the words won't come back.

Reviews

[Phill Oz O'fee]

The beautiful energy of ‘Grace’ is available to each and every one of us, regardless of whether you believe it or not! The mere existence of your being will acknowledge the signs all around you. Very interesting, poignant and self examining write … :-)

[arbitrary jane]

it sometimes happens that we do our best growing in the deserts.
and the words will come. they just might be new words.

[NoneOfYourBusiness akaK..]

I have more and more days like these nowdays~ and so your poem roots in similar soil between the garden of these ribs~

[Tommy]

A hope and a dream, these words are an expression of faith it seems, for one feels that they have lost their way, but they still remember that there is a way. The words have been lost, but here they lay…

Great Write!
RLG,
Tommy

[Alicante lullaby]

this is hauntingly lovely.