Where No Hand Moves?

See the boy

slam his forehead on the tile floor,

again and

again.

He is three years old.

Hear the boy 

scream

from the belly of his throat,

as if tortured

by someone else. 

It takes two seconds

for God’s hand to move

in between floor and flesh.

This hand has freckles

and looks smaller than mine. 

Oh my God,

what of those places where 

the unseeing and unhearing

are unseen and unheard?

Where no hand moves?

See the boy 

slam his forehead on the tile floor, again and again. He is three years old.

Hear the boy 

scream from the belly of his throat, as if tortured by someone else.

His soul must protest

his body’s condition. 

More than disability,

all the shit that comes with it.

Like Saint Peter, he was carried where he didn’t want to go.

But his body can’t

obey his soul.

He knows no means,

except despairing self-harm. 

So he slams and he screams.

See the boy slam his forehead on the tile floor, again and again, he is three years old,

Hear the boy scream from the belly of his throat, as if tortured by someone else

The man after your own heart

said

that you are abounding in steadfast love to all

who call upon you.

Does this count?

Seetheboyslamhisforeheadonthetileflooragainandagainheisthreeyearsoldheartheboyscreamfromthebellyofhisthroatasiftorturedbysomeoneelse

Now see him smile.

Big.

Hear him laugh.

Loud.

Mystery.

All of this is a mystery.  

God alone comprehends.