Two Hands

Two hands

I look down at our hands

Side by side on the leather of the couch

Mine, covered with freckles

Where the sun has shone on them

Over and over,

Until they are brown, and worn

Like the leather of the couch, yet still strong

And holding it all together.

Each day

Reflected in a brown spot

A wrinkled corner

A swollen joint

Each scar a job done,

A day passed

A dollar earned

To buy you a chance

To secure a place in the world.

My hands will never feel

Any spot in the sun

That will warm my skin as much as your touch.

Sometimes the pain of just straightening my fingers

Brings back the long nights

Wiping fever from your face

Fear from your eyes

Or the agony of being shut out

Of the life that they bought you to live.

Mine to provide, then go away.

Separation can be so sharp,

Between the time you needed my touch,

My effort, my struggle

To reach your strength

Just to move on without me.

So here we sit,

Side by side,

Old hands, scarred and leathery

Young hands, new and hopeful

Full to bursting with tomorrows

Lush, fresh, flesh.

The hope is

That when your hands are scarred and leathery

You will have felt the fullness of each day

Reveled in the strength of each hug,

Warmed in a shared sun,

Clutched against the cold

And ached for the love

That stands between hands like ours.

And have made the sacrifices that bring them together

Two hands, one reaching forward

Into the future

One holding up the past

Like a beacon to light the way.

"A Place for the Eye to Rest" is a site for thoughtful consideration. There is a place for peace in every perspective. Visit https://www.wix.com/my-account/sites/ to see other entries for thought. Leave us an email. Karenmac1999@hotmail.com.