Our Truths

i

they were first
the baby's hands opening
slowly as fingers

ii

God has a fan that
He spreads open
to display

iii

then he closes it
all fingers as one folded
fan

iv

it is us
all truths kept back
to the Hands of God
so lovingly kept
back to its
proper place

poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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