— The Hand That Led Them Out

I am the Tenelach.

I enter Sodom
at evening,
not as a stranger
but as one who has lived
too long among its shadows.

Two angels stand before me.

They do not speak of fire first.

They speak of leaving.

“Go.”

But I hesitate.

How much of my life
have I spent hesitating
before the door of grace?

Behind me
are the familiar streets,
old habits,
old fears,
old names I have carried
long after they ceased
to give me life.

The morning comes.

Still I cannot move.

Then a hand takes mine.

Another hand reaches
for those I love.

And suddenly I understand:

Sometimes grace
does not wait for my strength.

It takes me by the hand
and leads me out.

I walk.

Behind me,
Sodom burns.

I hear the fire
but do not turn.

Or so I tell myself.

Then I hear the ancient warning:

Do not look back.

I stop.

For I know now
that the city is not only behind me.

It lives inside me.

The salt upon the earth
is the hardness
of a heart that cannot let go.

I am the Tenelach,
walking between
judgment and mercy.

I have learned
that salvation is sometimes
a road away
from everything familiar.

So, Lord,

when You take my hand,
let me not resist.

When You call me forward,
let me not bargain with the past.

And when the fire rises
behind me,

teach me to keep walking—

not because I am without fear,

but because Your hand
is still holding mine.