In God’s Hands 4/21/03
If God held me in the palms of His hands, I’d roam for hours in the maze of His fingerprints, lose myself in the tiny intricacies: the gradations of color, the subtle sounds, and the smells, amazed by His sheer enormity: the galaxies, the heavens, and the whales. I’d jump from His right hand to His left, and back again, bounce on His hammering calloused palms, slide along scars impressed by the blunt, unknowing teeth of sheep. I’d climb up His pointer, crawl out to the edge of His nail and look toward Eternity, which surely would hurt my brain. I’d skate along the rim – a sea of glass mingled with fire: the very Spark that gave Adam life –check for dirt He may have picked up digging into my own, and ask Him, please, to wash it all away.
-Matthew Harri
