In darkness, a church
of carved Baroque stone
catches me walking
unawares and alone.
Two stone hands reach out
from the church outer wall.
A gesture of blessing
or a prayer for us all
in stony carved silence
that echoes the voice
of a God we can’t hear,
who stays quiet — by choice?
Just when we need
to hear they’re right here,
they feel like a veiled cloud
that is more distant than near.
Still these outstretched hands
remind me of this:
Divine’s in the touch
of human hands’ godlike gift.
Jan 10, 2025
Jan 10, 2025 at 2:13 PM UTC
In darkness, a church
of carved Baroque stone
catches me walking
unawares and alone.
Two stone hands reach out
from the church outer wall.
A gesture of blessing
or a prayer for us all
in stony carved silence
that echoes the voice
of a God we can’t hear,
who stays quiet — by choice?
Just when we need
to hear they’re right here,
they feel like a veiled cloud
that is more distant than near.
Still these outstretched hands
remind me of this:
Divine’s in the touch
of human hands’ godlike gift.
Inspired by seeing a statue from the side on an outer wall of the French Cathedral in Berlin. Its hands seemed to protrude out of nowhere.