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.