It is a delight to continue to partner with Holly at A Lifetime of Days for poetry. We live and breathe half-way across the country from one another, have never met in real life, but have formed a friendship and a common love for words. Most especially for poetry.

Today is the third offering of Adagio: A Poetry Project which began last year and continues to grow and fly. Our fledgling, our joint writing project is leaving the nest again. You may recall our first poem, woven and written together, was a picture of us as individual writers. The second time, Adagio involved separate poems inspired by the words of a song which Holly shared with me. It was the Christmas season and that weighed heavy on our words.

Today, January 15, 2013, is the first ever Poetry At Work Day, an idea birthed from the creative folks at Tweetspeak Poetry. Today we thread a poem together into one piece, from a distance. Holly and I write with each other, as well as in community with other writers.  I am raising three children or they are raising me. One has left the nest or flown the coop. Holly is the momma of two boys whom she homeschools.

This is the work of our hands and hearts.

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Les Mains (French for “hands”) talks of the power, the breadth, and the warmth of God’s reach.  For us, our hands can be tools and vehicles for working, for writing, for loving. We would love to hear your thoughts on the multiple roles hands play in the living out of your days.

You may write your prose, your comments, your poetry, however you feel lead.  Just write in the comments here or at A Lifetime of Days and give us the link to your own writing. We long to read your words, the overflow of your heart.

Les Mains

Your hands reach back
through inky curtains
worn, frail, thin
settling our shaky human brokenness
and
smoothing the broken shards of conscience
all the while
quelling a thousand restless swirling places
and
righting rattled beats

And then, as always
You are here
the warming sun your canopy
and I must grab hold of your shadow
for fear of sinking deep into
the pools of light
left in your wake
For the day
it keeps moving,
ray upon ray

Always
You reach forward
no more fevered pitch
or furrowed brow
You are slow
and steady
All that races
finds a peaceful pace
In a twinkling
the frozen is warmed
and the darkness becomes
Light

And as with all creation
Your hands
form a holy welcome
That longed for warm embrace
enveloping all restless souls
with grace

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