Ending Hands

a poem that leads to endings

He put his hands on me.
Hands that made me
then unmade me,

opening a longing
for darkness that ravages
if only to reach for

the darkness that holds.
That soothes and softens
the aches of my breaks. 

He put His hands on me
and I felt all the hands
before that stole

and tore away pieces
of what's mine,
pieces of what's divine.

And from the depths of me
She rose, how the Phoenix does,
and She breathed fire.

He put His hands on me
and choice confronts me now,
choice to surrender how,

we mend and we tend
and He meets Her again
with hands of a transcendent end.


This poem is the from Hunni Bloom's poetry book, Healing: Cum and Dance.

Photo by Alexander Grey on Unsplash