The Power of Healing Hands
In gentle touch, a balm is found,
Where words fall short, without a sound.
A tender grasp, a soothing grace,
A healing light in soft embrace.
The hands that hold, the hands that care,
Are filled with love, a gift so rare.
With every stroke, with every press,
They ease the pain, the heart’s distress.
They mend the broken, calm the soul,
They lift the spirit, make it whole.
A silent prayer in each caress,
A tender hope, a quiet bless.
Like rivers flowing, pure and wide,
Their touch restores, the wounds they hide.
In warmth, they weave a quiet thread,
And raise the weary from their bed.
No magic wand, no potions grand,
Just healing hearts and steady hands.
For in their touch, the world can see,
The power of love’s humility.
Thank-you for reading.
Much Love and Light,
Brenda Marie
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