HER HANDS
- © Raphaela El caná Joyce Israel-Öbeñg
- Jul 27, 2018
- 1 min read
In the black canvas of the night, bleeding light,
Brightness trembled at the movement of her fingertips.
Five rods of flesh and bone soaking up promise that lay in the sky smiling down at her.
Beauty luminescent within the night.
She heard a voice say; don’t let your hands rot and wrinkle with the weight of broken promises
But allow every inch to be fulfilled.
The power is in your hands and its disposal at your fingertips.
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