Sometimes I wonder if these hands are too weak to embrace the ones I love most.
Sometimes I wonder if these hands are too contracted to unclasp and let go.

Sometimes I wonder if these hands are too heavy for anyone to hold.

Oh, how heavy these palms are.

I offer these to you with hopes that I’ll be able to deny myself,

You pry my fingers apart as you put my past on the shelf,

And I feel the grace between my nails calming my hands back into my lap. 

I get so tired doing such a simple task.

All I am and all I have to bring - though I don’t know what that might be - I give to You my everything. 


How I just want you to use these hands.

How I just want you to hold them.