Do you insist that you must see
the nail-scarred hands before you believe
Do you doubt the evidence before your eyes
of daily miracles, intricate life, blue skies
Then let me point to the change in me
from angry and mean to kind as can be
Once I cared only for myself
hopelessness prowled in me like a wolf
Then the hands of my Savior picked me up
He drank for me of death’s vile cup
I am evidence loud and clear
of grace and mercy that God holds dear
So if you insist nail-scarred hands you must see
look closely at the scarred heart in me
______________________________________________
I decided to write a second poem involving hands in response to the Tuesday Poetics prompt at dVerse Poets Pub, since I needed to write a Lent poem for today anyway.