the laying of hands

[camberblue]

In the tunnel of hands
whirling prayers and the ever present 
stained glass windows
I have found a resting place
for my faith
you, all of you
have stripped away suddenly
the intangibility
because the brown, the white,
the tiny and the withered
yet still soft skin of your hands
are pressing in around me
firm, timid, trembling
and all I see through the prism glaze of
my tears of gratitude
is that here there is not 
room for questioning.  
Almost like a violent wind
rushing around me
security and space and sanctity
and relief, because finally
if only momentarily
I can feel, I can touch, I can hold,
I am held by, I receive
faith.