The Hands of Baba You You who remind us What, like children, we forget, Again and again. You who brings to us What somehow we cannot yet find In our clenched fistsYour mirror Holds for us our own image That we cannot yet see When we hide from our startling beauty. When we refuse to take the hand of a stranger, Or open our proud ears to Your ever available word. If our hearts are shouting, and they do, Because we are so far apart from each other, Waking up frightened and lonely, Hold our hand, when our own palm is not enoughSup at the table When we cannot keep our own Good company. Help us to celebrate Your world As if we could celebrate Each dayAs if each perfect snowflake could make A blanket To hush the din of words that Separate and destroy. As if Your hands had taken our face and Cradled them In Your inextricable Grace, And pointed us In the right directionTowards Love.
A Chasm and The Hands of Baba : Tracey Schmidt is a photographer and poet living in Asheville. NC. Much of her first book of poetry, I Have Fallen in Love with the World, (Logosophia Books, 2011) was written at the Center in Myrtle Beach. It is available on amazon.com or from her website: traceyschmidt.com.