Sunday, January 6, 2019

Folded Hands





I close my eyes and fold my hands
My fingers turn to flattened strands
They bend in grooves along each digit
And thus I have no way to fidget

My folded hands, I must confess
Look stranger yet, when more compressed
They buckle in and merge in layers
And thusly poised, I say my prayers

I find my words more concentrated
With hands thus bound and laminated
I know not how to unclasp them 
I have no strength to ungrasp them

But when my words have all reached heaven
I thank the Lord, and say 'amen'
For when I open up my eyes
The folds are gone, to my surprise.
















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