Her Hands

Never idle or at a loss to teach,
to live, not preach
Movement fast, her fingers now her tongue to speak
Mild and meek
Lines mark the paths where she will belong
No longer weak, but strong
Her knuckles expand and bend in song, in love
Skin caresses soft as a dove
Her nails, dirt underneath, clipped short to extend her reach
In her Lord's garden, eating no apples, she's a praying peach
Palm to palm, pointed heavenward, gifted
She gives all to God, uplifted
Plucking weeds
Sowing seeds
Pushing, pulling, keeping track
She lends help and fills the world's lack
Through Christ, the Son
He strengthens her, still she'll never run
That is for His feet