this hand
Take this hand
It’s here for you
Don’t judge its strength by its size
Its power by its age
its capacity by its solitude
This hand
It’s here for you
It knows your pain
Traces your name
The gnarly knuckles of life well-lived
It’s touched the tears and lingered there
Has pulled back hair
The need to see
Adjusted clothes for dignity
Has tied, untied
Has pulled and pushed
Has pointed, beckoned
Counted, texted, turned pages
Typed a thesis wild with energy
And then ‘deleted’ comes frequently
Tired, tangled letters
The day’s work endless
But endlessly weary
Lifts warmth of winter quilts
Light switch flicks
Habitually covered yawn
The hand in service
Behold!
The babe’s newness grips my finger
This dear life
Linking
Holds carefully
Reassuring and supporting the tentative testing of ventures new
The milestones and benchmarks and taciturn skylarks
Guiding, directing, the door’s held open
Wiping misted windows to keep watch
To drink in
To ponder
To wonder
Shades eyes from sun’s shining
Curled to lips breathing warmth
And blood flows to their ends
Returns colour to nails once more
And you know, this hand knows
The beauty of gathering wildflower
Stroking fur
Or a moment’s rest to the butterfly
If lingering is its desire
It has closed doors that asked to stay open
Deleted emails that held promises
Swiped left, then right
The digital days of calendars
Speed dial, search the web, screaming screen
SLOWLY!
S l o w d o w n
Slowing, lowing
Wet the lips and water sips
And drops and wipe away
Its open-palmed questioning and gesturing
Are you OK?
OK
Are you?
Take this hand
It’s here for you
Gillian Richards
