Saturday, February 14, 2009

Held

Rain, sunshine,
In the sullen fall and dead of winter
Your hand
is my compass.
Steady, unwavering
when I am needing strength.
In my travails
as my spirit struggles
and yearns for respite,
your touch heals and understands.
In my questions
amidst a storm of doubt,
your clasp assures and
casts a field of faith.
I am held
And in the same breath
set free.
With your hands, your touch, your clasp,
I find certainty
that I am holding on
To my destiny.
JPM 2.10.09

3 comments:

  1. This poem is absolutely beautiful. It resonates with me. A loving touch or a heartfelt hug can be so healing, comforting, and reassuring in an uncertain world.

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