Anagnorisis

reachinghandOh Jesus, I reach out for you, feeling
Through dark air for you; wanting
To grasp your hand and know you, sensing
Nothing.

I know you are always here. Knowing
Shapes my efforts, but you beyond all trying
Are Real and wholly other to my all-needing
Nothing.

I stretch both arms ahead, working
Unaccustomed awareness beyond myself, stretching
To brush a hand that is not my own, trusting
Nothing

And all things. The airy creatures, whispering,
Past my outstretched fingers, brushing;
Thou, and yet not Thou; grasping
Nothing.

I keep my fingers stretched, my palms accepting
Creation’s misty coolness, waiting
For your hand grasping mine, withholding
Nothing.

But then in silence behind I hear you, laughing
Fondly at my graveness. Your hands encircling
My chest have raised me up, outstretched, offering
All Things.

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