Hands Down

I do have strong hands
They take care of me
They watch out for others.

They play music
With or without an instrument.

They express my thoughts
They make a point,
And write a poem.

They hold onto life
And what they love tightly.
They shove what hurts
Or I’m finished with
Vehemently out
of my view.

They get pinched sometimes
And sometimes they pinch me back.
A few months ago one of them
punched me so hard
repetitively
in frustration
that my thigh was bruised
from hip to knee.
Can you be okay with knowing
they did that to me?

My hands fly to my face
Flutter to my heart to protect me.

They wring themselves
in an attempt to get answers,
Or worry through the inevitable.

They wipe away tears,
mine, or yours if you shed them.

They scratch their way out
And they’ve been extra busy lately
trying to claw their way up.

They pet furry, soft creatures
And squish doggie faces to my lips.

They are the owners
of many clumsy messes
and dirty fingernails.

They snap memories constantly
And type as nimbly as I think.

They clench in anger
And spread open for life.

And although they are strong
One day they’ll shake hands
with Death
firmly gripping
or maybe weakly grasping

Their work will conclude
and someone else
will take over,
folding them together
and laying them down
forever in peace.

~ cj 2010.12.24

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3 Responses to Hands Down

  1. Melinda Richards says:

    So perfectly expresses gratitude for some things that we may take for granted.

    • cjromb says:

      Wow. Thank you for digging into the site and finding this poem! 🙂

    • cjromb says:

      And you’re right. We DO take things for granted sometimes. I wrote one about my hair recently, and how I’m learning to appreciate it, and me. It’s been a long time coming for sure.

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