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Hand Over Hand

May 9, 2021

*Dedicated with love to all of us in these transformational times of Covid and beyond….

Sometimes we need a hand up—

when we have fallen from the wagon, face first

in the mud—when we are down deep in the belly

of despair. When the dark night of the soul 

has its grip and we cannot see our way

through an endless fog.


Sometimes we need a hand up

when we are quaking in the corner

of our worst fears realized, when death

and abandonment sit at our table,

when we are in the hold of an ache 

that seems to have no end.


Sometimes we need a hand up

when the unmet children in us 

are crying in the corner, running ransack

through the cupboards looking

for something to eat. Or when the adolescents

ones take the car and nearly drive 

off the edge of a cliff. Or when the older ones of us

stand aloof in judgement, behind the stacks

of stories we have built around us.


Sometimes we need a hand up

when the storm clouds gather 

and it rains for days and floods 

all of our streets at once. When 

we are tumbling in the heavy surf of confusion,

when we are caught in the riptides 

of our own soul and can’t find the shoreline.


Sometimes we need a hand up 

when we have convinced ourselves 

that we don’t need each other,

when the Ace of Blame and the Queen

of Righteousness are passed

around the circle. When we cannot 

stop and see we are each at the table

with our own set of cards.


Sometimes we need a hand up.


In heaven, which is here, which is now—

we feed one other. We see this muddy, tear-stained One

in front of us as a version of ourselves on another day.

We reach our hand out, cast no stones, no shame.

We come close enough to whisper, I am with you. 


In heaven, there is no need for fixing of saving—

for all must find their way. And yet, together 

we make the way, knowing we each fall

and stand, we each carry and are carried. 

So when the darkest part of the night Howls,

when our own demons rattle our walls–

together we sing, together we find the songlines. 

And in the dawn, when the sun washes us clean 

with new sight, we share in this Feast of Grace. 


And when it is our moment to Fall—

we know this Hand of God will reach to us,

and that there is no shame in reaching back. 

For this God of Generosity –that looks out 

from our human eyes–makes pathways

where there were only walls, 

makes a caravan of beauty in boarded up towns

of old wounds, makes miracles in times of drought.


And in the light of this gaze, water springs 

from the cold stone we had given up on—

and we simply fill our one sacred cup from the fount,

pass it around the circle and drink,

knowing there is more than enough for all. 

©Laura Weaver

One Comment leave one →
  1. Pamela Trachta permalink
    May 9, 2021 7:40 pm

    This says it all. Magnificent poetry and wisdom. And I want to be a hand up.

    I love you.

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