Menu

Poetry

But instead of pressing palms
tight as I was taught,
I cup one palm
over the other—
fingertips to wrists—
before my belly.

This is how I show God
what I’m asking,
how I direct God’s hands
to dive into my husband’s gut
where cancer harbors
in the sea of his bladder—
a dark hulk gnawing at the shoreline.

How I show myself God’s hands—
ribbed and tawny as the shell
called lion’s paw—hinged
over the bladder, holding in—
I hope—all harm.

How I teach myself to sink
deep into the murky realms
where there is neither light
nor word, where there is only
being held and holding.


The Image archive is supported in part by an award from the National Endowment for the Arts.

Access one piece of artwork every month for free! To experience the full archive, log in or subscribe.

Related Poetry

black and white image of dark leaves or the shadows of them casting a shadow on a glass or a veiled window.

Parsonage with Two Maples

By

Terri Witek

rich blue sky with a brighter blue in the center, ringed by darker jewel blue tones. arctic birds fly across the sky, their white bodies punctuating the sky.

Greater Solitude

By

Cintio Vitier

A Request

By

Brian Doyle

Romanian Orthodox Choir

By

Ewa Elzbieta Nowakowska

Pin It on Pinterest