We often believe
we must know the story
before we can hold the prayer.
What hurts?
What is feared?
What needs healing?
But sometimes the most sacred thing
we can do is not ask.
A hand is placed in ours.
Eyes meet.
And somehow, we hear.
Not the story.
Not the circumstances.
But something beneath the words:
the desire to be seen,
to be heard,
to be held,
to be healed.
Sometimes the hands hear
what the ears cannot.
Perhaps this is one of the mysteries of prayer.
We do not bring the Divine to another.
The Divine is already there.
We simply become still enough
to witness is.
There is a gap
between one human heart
and another.
We cannot always cross it.
Perhaps we do not need to.
Sometimes we meet there,
hands touching across the unknown,
and discover
the gap itself
is sacred ground.
— a Torchbearer Wisdom by Corvalya