I wish I felt better so I could really dig into this hymn.
I wish I had looked ahead and scheduled a Hymn-by-Hymn conversation with Suzanne Fast about this hymn.
I’ll just say that having had a conversation with Suzanne at General Assembly, I now understand how difficult this embracing our bodies without shaming our bodies for the ways they work, move, and look can be.
The pen is greater than the sword.
To wield a blade or write a word
we need the skill which hands accord.
A surgeon takes a knife to heal;
assassins do the same to kill.
Each acts according to their will.
I pick the cherries from a tree,
or break the branch and let it die.
For good or ill, my hands are free.
With fingers I can soothe a brow,
or make a fist and strike a blow,
kindness or cruelty bestow.
Then let us now this lesson see:
like life itself our hands can be
for evil used, or charity.
My analytical abilities continue to be put off by a flu that has settled into my shoulder, causing great pain. I’m on anti-virals and muscle relaxers to ease it out; they’re starting to work, but I am Flexeril-loopy.
Anyway – have at it: the song about assassins and hands.
At least it’s not a cankerworm?
Cool pen image via deviantart.net.