The Slightness of Your Hand
to you, by me
How to see what we have, not only what’s missing?
A challenge us humans face without noticing
That we do not notice the good.
There is no love, only loneliness and violence
No note taking of the tiny acts of kindness and the lasting print they never fail to make.***
There is death and disease suffered everywhere
But notice the healers, the teachers and those who volunteer
Their hearts full of love
Their hot boiling passion that bubbles and spills,
It floods the bare land and brings back the chills of happiness
hope, along with the seas of fresh, colourful bloom.***
The poverty, the hunger, too vast to approach
Without fear of getting burnt by the vastness of engulfing scorch
Dreading being swallowed by guilt, by helplessness, by fear
Straight into agape mouth of suffering awaiting too near,
To rip through the once plump flesh of the blameless.***
Yet we clothe and feed the fellow children of God
Show off our science to save their fragile lives
Just as we must, we should, for do not matter the empty goodbyes.
We share shelter and nourish without expectation
But in return we indeed receive – kindness which feeds our determination
until the heavy weariness of compassion has lifted.***
You must not pity the slightness of your hand
and fear its strength might cease too soon
For its true greatness is seen in the bringing back of love into full bloom.
Pulling souls up and off the dirty ground, dear mightiness of your tiny hand
To show us all that in this world there really is no end,
To the tsunami of goodness started by you.***