I Imagine … His Hands


… I imagine strumming a guitar on our front porch …

his cigar smoke drifting sideways in the wind

… and i write a song about how it soothes my soul …

our children peaceful warrior spirits,

… reminiscent of samurai masters, the same as we

I imagine the rough smoothness of his sandpaper hands

… he’ll say they’re too rough to touch my willowy surface…

and i’ll lift those fingers into my own,

… examining them like the miracles they will be to my soul …

and remind him without words,

… as i silently move them to my side,

that these hands are the foundation to my strength,

… the remembrance of a spirit connection unbroken

across millenia we have traveled

… his hands the delivery of peace,

seeps his energy into mine and we

… bind like rope threads intertwined …

a force unbroken … we are

… there is a forest of stories inside those hands …

I imagine …

(Written while listening to “For You” by Tracy Chapman. when it was shared by Clare L. Martin near her and her husband’s 25th wedding anniversary)


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