These Are The Hands

These are the Hands

By Rebekah Nelams

Alone again, unsupervised

She’s the one that they despise

Not with outward, blatant hate

They’re weaving her a hopeless fate

She opens the door, steps out in the sun

A brand new life has just begun

Her eyes look out

What does she see?

Endless possibilitites

Extended arms, frail and small

One day she’ll stand up proud and tall

But for now she reaches high

Tiny fingers touch the sky

Reaching for Him Who understands

She has desperate, searching Hands

Fingers working through her hair

She remembers being there

Trapped in mistakes made by another

Confused by someone she called “mother”

She once opened wide a door

And found what she was looking for

She too dared to touch the sky

Extended her arms in time gone by

Reached for Him Who Understands

She had desperate, searching hands

Within them both is a clear strong voice

It tells them that they have a choice

They dare to trust, they follow hard

Pushing for that great reward

They find another open door

Together they go through once more

To open skies and fields in bloom

And there He is, the Waiting Groom

They run to Him Who understands

And rest in Outstreched, Nail-scarred Hands


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