These Hands

These hands once held the promise of youth,
The gesture of truth
    In a troubled world.
Hopeful and skyward they carried the weight,
Tempted by fate
    As the brash tempest swirled.
 
Never a challenge too large or too small,
You processed them all
     With your delicate touch.
Even when tempted to yield to the strain
You never complained
     That the load was too much.
 
Now I observe in the harsh light of day,
The forces at play
     As time takes her toll.
Freckles of age, the thinning of skin
As furrows begin
     To take permanent hold.
 
Hints of mortality creep through my soul,
Darker than coal
     Yet bright as the sun.
Teetering closer to Heaven’s clear day,
These hands cleared the way.
     The battle… won.

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