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.***