
My hand finds yours;
feel my fingers
slide and weave
into place,
your loving anchor
to steady you
when fears cause thoughts
to race.
My hand is in yours;
there is nothing
we cannot endure
and use
to manifest it
into something more,
good and pure,
repurposed anew.
My hand is in yours,
only changing slightly
in physical form
as we age,
but the love transmitted
only strengthens
with each adjoined
passing day.
My hand in yours,
in one of the ways
we become one,
so natural
and effortless
the genuine home
welcome.
One day our love
will transcend this life
and these hands,
but then our light
can fully fuse
as we finally rise together to
begin.

Poem and images ©LauraDenise