HANDS:

Born as tight, pink fingered furled shell,

Accompanied by fisted frustrated natal yell,

Grasping, kneading at new mother´s breast,

Unfurling with sweaty fluff and sublime rest,

These tiny little hands clasped in prayer innate,

Curled fingers tightly holding life´s unknown fate.

Muddy and grubby with earth´s blessed clod,

Cracked nail, blistered and besmirched with sod,

Gripping slugs and snails and snot picked deep,

Childhood treasures through little fingers seep.

 Dusk & rinsed of day´s murk and all games played,

On little knees, pink fingers folded, &“God bless” prayed.

Time grew and brought petting petulant teenager years,

Of confusion, painted talons, the tantrums & the tears,

And always posed in ready-for- a- fight, of knuckled fist,

Those trusting little hands, now gone & sorely missed,

Now with rhythmic be-ringed fingers & tattooed hands,

Clenched tight, the searching of the soul & distant lands.

The career & the business of earning an honest wage,

Hands shaken, of deals done on screen & written page,

Hands in grease, dust, suds, grit, & life’s lubricating oil,

Years passing for working hands in endless necessary toil,

The elusive prayers now fleeting for lack of adult time,

Hands now not folded, just a passing in restless mime.

Now sporting golden band of the precious words “I do”,

Ever caressing, ever loving, ever trustful & forever true,

Babe´s tears & toddler´s fears, with love, softly wiped away,

By those gentle hands, that will forever, close & nearby stay,

“Please Lord, with these humble hands, I kneel to you & plead,

To protect my little family close & to never let them bleed”.

The end is nigh & these age-mottled hands now sadly tire,

Gnarled, scarred, deeply veined & totally without desire,

Hold this old hand of mine in yours & tell me it´s all been fun,

And lovingly, gently caress this hand with the softly ebbing sun,

I put these old lived hands together now, as life & death entwine,

Thanking you with them folded, I now pray for one last & final time.