Thoughts Have Hands

Disasters storm across our lands these days: Rivers forget their banks, 

pour raging waters into our streets, 

wash out bridges, trash our treasures, leave us to cry in the dark.

Funny we never expect such happenstance.

Winds bend trees to breaking and limbs crash in rooftops, turn homes into unsurvivable wrecks —

Victims by tragic circumstance.

Overwhelmed by loss

And the muddy mess,

we fear what will come next:

Wonder just what we have reaped,

What seeds have been carelessly sown.

Times of struggle loom ahead 

Times of discomfort,

Little time to recover tattered remains,

We will have to make do with less.

But surprise awaits as people

gather on site, where we learn 

What neighbors are really like:

The ones with a flashlight,

The ones with chainsaws to clear debris, 

The ones with power, food, and a freezer to share,

The ones with brooms and shovels,

Ready to get down to it.

Ready to make the day worth living 

With helping hands to restore 

Better times for the rest.

Even people from far away places, 

People with unfamiliar faces 

show up at the door,

To make for us a hearty stew.

And in their love plainly demonstrated,

We find humanity at her best.

Tragic experience shatters norms.

Sufferings shared makes of desperate people one. 

The mystery of hope held in common, bends in one charitable direction

To make real corrections.

The blessing rarely spoken,

learned when disaster strikes, 

As you face frustration, worry and strife,

Is the joy brought by people who knock 

Twice; People waved at yesterday in passing, now offer a hand strong and lasting.

Neighbors you barely knew 

Become trusted friends: a whole new community for you.

The realization of solidarity and 

respect provides healing for human grief; the faithfulness restored by willing hearts, gives hope in spite of worldly distress, 

The unexpected grace of nevertheless.

THH

10/01/24

No matter how far you travel 

No matter where you go

The world she travels with you

And teaches lessons you need to know.

Some days are grey and cloudy,

others sunny with skies full of blue;

For along with joys and pleasure,

No matter if you are due,

The world she brews trouble,

And not a few heavy woes for you.

So when you hit the road 

Have friends at the ready 

To lighten up your load,

And bring you close together 

To share the love of living

And keep you steady as you go.

THH

9/23/24

A gentle shower begins to play.

Raindrops snap and pop 

on my tin roof;

Adventuring sounds,

Fading in and out,

Rushing tempos,

Slowing down,

Searching for chords, 

A warm up set.

Accompanied by a breezy horn,

Blowing jazz notes for emphasis,

Finger my skin,

Lay underneath the rain

A refrain that works with emotion.

The breeze and rain play counterpoint.

An ensemble of enchantment,

soothes aging ears 

with a syncopated sounds.

A rhythmic salve to thoughts pestering my brain, releasing the demons of what was and what might have been,

From another round of reasoning.

Tree frogs provide accompaniment,

As tears from father sky

bath bird and beast and

Quench the thirst of Mother Earth.

The land is a sponge.

And the tinkle of water 

performs its rooftop tunes,

Until the jazz fades,

Leaving nothing but rest.

THH

9/14/24

Today full of grace

Friends with ears open
A will to listen
A lesson in divine touch
Awakens ears
Opens hearts
Yearning to speak

THH
9/8/24

Be still

Really still, I’m told.

Sit alone 

Do nothing 

Slip off the engagement ring 

of speaking and directing,

Seek a space for listening.

Don’t think of what’s coming,

Plan nothing, 

Sit back,

Stop scrolling,

Make no sound,

Forget proposing.

Stay with silence, 

Empty as a chilled house 

So still I hear my heart beat 

Feel air blanket my aging skin 

Breathe life’s time in.

In this silence, I know so well,

my senses quiver,

bleed and blend, with 

Shouts at blameless walls 

Hear the echoes of sobs 

welling from within

Mocking my demands for

a magical accounting.

I tremble and crumble 

sling words at the page,

Know they fail to touch 

the depth of this reckoning.

Forget expectations,

Make no explanations, 

Create holy space to dwell

In between past directions 

and important questions.

Being still 

Really still 

In anticipation of some recognition,

A fool’s salvation,

As afternoon sunlight slides 

along the floor 

Leaving me to wonder

Is there anything more

To search for?

THH

9/9/24

Take time

She’s all you’ve got

Make believe she’s yours 

Even though she surely is not.

Use her while you can

Get to know her moves 

Always forward,

Never back.

Take time with her,

For she gives what she will,

And never rests.

But if you fail to take her to dance 

You commit a crime against chance.

Time gives nothing away.

She is never free;

She owes no debts,

But steals you blind, 

Day after day,

Expects you to follow her lead,

And yet for her we continue to pray.

Time never asks to dance

Time’s a bitch if you fail to use her,

She’s all you have

You never want to lose her.

Time is a queen. 

She reigns with authority,

Gives no thought to justice,

Refuses to number days,

She moves to a subtle beat, 

Then turns all you know to dust.

And leaves you behind.

Take time now 

While she will play with you 

Dance with her all you can,

Swing her around,

Smile at her while at play,

For sooner or later

No longer will you sway her.

Take time now while still able.

She is no clock to wind

Over and over,

And where you begin is not 

where on the dance floor 

you will end.

You do not own her.

You cannot control her.

She can’t be bought.

Time sings one mysterious song,

Writes her perfect bridge 

Invites you over.

Time offers no wisdom traveling east

She follows no star.

She cares nothing for the past,

or who you are,

But always has the last laugh.

So play along as long as she’s willing, 

Hold her loosely 

Follow her lead,

Always remember 

When you hold her close

It is certain one day 

She will leave.

Time is a witches brew

Serving potions of hope and despair, 

Love and pain,

Open to the spice of life, 

Showering senses with fire and ice. 

Take time while you may

She’s all you’ve got.

Time never lingers,

And no promises does she make.

Learn time’s siren song,

And sing along wisely.

For when her music ends

No goodbye will be proffered.

For time gives away nothing,

Remains coldly independent,

And at the bitter end 

When your time comes to an end,

And she slips soundlessly out the door

She leaves nothing

But your dust on the floor.

THH

9/2/24

No code exists

No plan outlined 

beyond child’s play in the sand

No fortune or fate easily discerned 

We plow fields with no guarantees,

Make art with little guidance beyond stories we were taught, 

Or willingly face.

The given given,

Not by willing hearts,

But carved by idol worshippers who 

Defend long held prejudice,

protect cherished memory of

Power and privilege.

They peddle novel thrills to the crowd

Distract from learning better.

So much past remains hidden from view,

buried under useless debris,

stored in attics rarely visited.

Only the bravest dig deep,

Inspect pain and loss, 

discover memories of abuse

question distortions

dropped in dirty alleys, 

briefly inhabited for sheer entertainment,

between main streets we walk in daylight.

Our days are assemblages of duties, play and expectations 

met and regularly unmet.

Imperfect in the most human of ways.

Our nights intended for rest and recovery become nests of turmoil, 

Calling for a stiff drink poured to relieve tension, 

Take the edge off fantasies, assuage sleep;

A game, a movie watched in reverie

with dangling carrots just out of reach,

Showing us the gold,

Instilling a will to work,

Longing for perfection, never complete,

For dreams of comfort and consolation 

Believing impossibilities, 

Finally to achieve desires we would die for.

Think, when do we finally get all we actually deserve, as if we knew the meaning of deserve.

Wait impatiently, feet tapping out make believe rhymes as if we had learned the secret code.

Nothing is owed, nothing is earned,

All we can do 

Is love imperfectly

Smile knowingly 

Act accordingly.

THH

With thanks to Becca Stevens

8/30/24

To the one who is and always will be

Direct my resolve to act honestly.

Reduce my hunger for praise, 

Keep me from playing to an audience,

And help me focus squarely on scripts that matter. 

With others – be myself 

By myself – be loving and forgiving 

Weave with the threads of my time 

a story of authenticity,

Full of caring 

To make a life worth remembering. 

Be evening’s stiff drink – a solace for feelings of loss and sadness, 

The long walk – providing balance and contrast to flights of fantasy, 

Sunshine – to warm a frosty heart,

Offer a distant horizon – to renew stale vision, 

The cool mountain stream- to give solitude and comfort ground for being, 

The embracing community – open to hearing questions, and discipline to listen.

Show me the way to be fully human — find joy 

In who I come to be, 

Live in faith as a loyal servant of your reality, 

in solidarity with fraternity,

between the depths of silence and beloved community.

THH

8/29/24

Inspire me this day with creativity 

Teach me new ways to be authentic,

Not just seek praise or Your favor.

Bless me with silence before taking action.

Show me the grace playing between word and deed.

Mindful of the difference between artful doing, and tangled webs of fantasy;

Help me mind my own damn business 

And keep from meddling.

Assist me to walk your way of love.

Give me faith to let go anxiety, hate 

and frustration.

Grant reason and skill to build better community.

Hands to embrace hospitality,

An open heart to exude passion for living,

And grace to wonder at your divine mysteries.

THH

8/15/24

Make me fully present in this sacred moment.

Give me loving eyes to see all persons

As they are and hope to be,

Ears to hear with empathy 

The thoughts and feelings spoken.

Assist me to be honest with myself,

And treat with charity and justice 

Each person I meet.

Grant me courage to greet with humble gratitude the majesty of creation,

A healing hand to promote human flourishing

And make of the world

The garden of love and delight intended.

THH

8/13/24