May my pointing hands refrain from forging dark divides
and seek instead to guide along the potent paths of Love.
May my drooping hands retell of efforts sown and pauses reaped,
of wholeness sought and second buddings eager to appear.
May my wringing hands be still and simply fold in rest,
releasing outcomes, oughts and shoulds, reclaiming fear-tossed peace.
May my clenched hands unfurl strife, untether tight control,
and in the widening space receive and nurture and support.
May my open hands refuse to strike, suppress, exclude,
and rather gather silently with deeper sights in view.
May my cupped hands reach toward Love and find compassion there,
quickened to the hope-filled life,
to untapped gifts and dreams,
to Eternal Love.