These Hands

These Hands

These hands,

The very ones that held my newborn son.

The ones that clutched to a promising future.

The ones that draw my loved ones near.

The ones that grasp worn pictures of history.

These hands,

The ones that comfort a friend in need.

The ones that reach out in the darkness.

The ones that caress a companions face.

The ones that speak volumes without words.

These hands,

The ones that grip in times of fear.

The ones that pat in silent condolence.

The ones that soothe at nightfall.

The ones that tremble when sadness nears.

These hands,

The ones that shudder during distress.

The ones that shake to meet an acquaintance.

The ones that squeeze in delight.

The ones that rest in quiet contemplation.

These hands,

The ones that ball up in passionate anger.

The ones that rise in jubilation.

The ones that wave in recognition.

The ones that meet in silent prayer.

These hands, these hands.

Hugs,