GRACE

I hold my life in fingers too thick.
like fabric from some celestial thought
caught in a weave of nothing the mind could understand.

Life is sold
into hands that cannot conceive
of what they hold.

To these hands
and to the dumb brute of sleeping man
come such gifts of grace

gifts for which kings
would sell their souls
if they but knew such gifts were bestowed at all

to peasant and king the same,
life is captured mystery
is so sweet a cage, these veins.

---Stephanie Selene Anderson