My Hands

Many times we complain our misfortune and our disasters.

These hands are not pretty, but they belong to me. 

God allows me to use them every day to do what is necessary.  

With many scars and swollen joints.
At his own way, God has blessed my work.  

People look at me, talk and sometimes mocks me. 

They really don't understand. 

Actually I have no deformations as some may think.  

My hands have caused me terrible pain and many sleepless nights, but I still have ten fingers to keep my family together.

 
Just like today, I write a lot of poetry I love.  

My hand can guide a pencil. The words come from higher.

 
Although sometimes not sound adjusting, I thank God every day for these afflicted hands mine when my prayer time arrives. 

I know you may wonder why. Because, it could be much worst, if God take my hands.  
That it would be a curse.

Victoria Pope