Poem: The hand of God

Who am I to hold the hand of God?

Except I am the beloved of God

In my many hours of despair

I did not let go

In my days of tribulations

I held tight

In my moment of happiness

The hand of God was my sunshine

I have held so many hands in my life

Some warm and drizzling with life

Others cold but radiating with affection

It was not the colour or the size of the hand

That gave me affection

It was the spirit within that nourished my soul

Every hand has its own charm

Every moment has its own rhythm

I still believe there is no hand or moment

That comes closer to the hand of God

It is a source of hope, compassion, affection and Love

The hand of God does not care about the hour of the day

Or the circumstances of the moment

The hand of God is available to you

Whether to cry on or to kiss it

It is the hand of Mercy

That comforts and gives hope

The hand of God is the hand of Love

It is full of grace

©Kenneth Maswabi