In lacing of our hands
I see where Jesus stands –
In between our thumbs,
His friends, the crooks and bums.
Enfolding of our palms
Relates the deepest psalms,
Fingers crossed and held
While music rose and swelled.
I pray to Him above,
But His sweetest love
Is felt when you and I
Are looking to the sky –
With your hands in mine,
God is in each line;
For He feels closer, too,
When I am holding you.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem