Into your hands …

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I began crafting this poem on the way to work one day recently, and I think it begins to capture the surrender of self—both good and bad—that has happened in my life of late. It is, however, only the beginning…

Into your hands, Father, I commend my spirit:

And with my spirit, the turmoils of my soul:
And with my soul, the angst of my body:
And with my body, the wars of my mind:
And with all, my fault and accomplishment,
With all, my sins and sainthood.

Father, make me at peace with imperfection
And hold me in the joy of my goodness:
Absolve me of doubt and chase away my demons.
I love you, not because I have chosen to love you,
But because I can do no other.

For you can do no other than love me.

Into your hands, Father, I commend my spirit:
My life, my breath, my will, my days:
Each born of divine promise, each cloaked in love
That not a sin or hundreds can wash away.

Soothe the racking of my weary self, Father,
And be for me what I cannot:
That I, when filled once more with grace,
Should shine in all the darkest ways of life.

Amen.

 

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