A strange meeting.
Prayerful, with eyes lowered and bowed heads.
This convocation of hands
Graceful as dancers; steadily
Holding life and limb-
A silent congregation, intent
Upon salvation. Invoking healing,
as if souls, not mouths, could converse.
All in Accord, held by a moment
bathed in light.
Yet moving mechanically, as the many parts of a wound watch.
© Tom Tide 2016