Hands

Day 135

photo by Michelle Johnsen

photo by Michelle Johnsen

If I showed you my hands,

would you know how to read the lines?

Like a crystal ball, could you see my future?

There’s the life line,

stretched thin like a tightrope.

And there,

my chance at happiness,

my path,

straight and clean,

etched into my soft palm.

Give me your hands,

press them gently into mine.

Yes,

I can tell you are tired form the weight of it all.

So am I.

Let me carry it with you,

alongside you,

take some of the load.

Place your hands in mine,

so I might see.

Hmm.

Small and slightly calloused,

smooth,

strong from years of working this earth,

raising babies,

loving,

caressing,

fighting.

I can see pain here, in the faint scar near your wrist,

and the blister on your thumb.

The back of your hand where you wiped away your tears.

Sit with me,

please,

tell me your story.

I know you have important things to say.

I can see your joy, here,

the ring on your finger,

the tattoo,

black ink marking

the blue of your veins.

And your vulnerable heart,

the small white half moons at the base of your nails,

the sloping rise of your strong knuckles,

the ridge of the fine bones on the back of your hand.

Here, like this.

Place your open hands against mine,

palm to  palm,

mirrors.

Let it be the new greeting of us,

the wild ones who love the land.

We are in need of ways to identify ourselves,

to make ourselves known to one another.

I wish the world could be perfect for you.

It’s very hard to walk alone.

I know.

Here,

take this kiss,

the imprint of my soft lips on your cool palm,

carry it tightly in closed fist

to remind you.

You and I are the same.

Share it when you get the chance.

Go ahead and pass it on.

We do not have to carry this weight alone.

Let us join hands.

I love you,

I’m sorry,

Please forgive me,

Thank you for listening,

Love,

Natasha

photo by Michelle Johnsen

photo by Michelle Johnsen

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