Hand
I bore the yoke,
surging against the assault,
counted the thin space that buffered me
from disaster.
At the beginning there was obedience
but also the certainty of great heights.
After years of being unable to stretch,
there are no more prophecies or ranks to aim for
or glory for a future horizon.
The unknown is dense and impassable
as a steel sealed curtain.
Maybe here I can learn what Jesus always knew –
that prayers are speeches of the greatest importance
but listening holds more sway,
that obedience to God
is the only currency-exchange, must be
the authority of each step taken,
is the root determination of peace
or anguish.
The first time I held out my hand,
I expected tangible abundance,
fruit, seeds, candy.
Now I hold out my hand
and hope only
to keep it open.
The air is light, causing no pressure, no trembling.
It is easy in its emptiness,
lacking anticipation, lacking
a future, past comparison.
Copyright © 2020 by Allison Grayhurst
amazon.com/author/allisongrayhurst
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First published in “Our Poetry Archive” October 2020
https://ourpoetryarchive.blogspot.com/2020/10/
https://ourpoetryarchive.blogspot.com/2020/10/allison-grayhurst.html
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You can listen to the poem by clicking below:
