What My Hands Have Done...
They’ve been rooting, in the dirt looking for a stone
One to leave on a memorial - that custom
To show you’ve been, and visited
like the cartoon Kilroy who peeks out over an edge
Stating, “See I was here.”
Yet for you that pebble is tossed in the creek...
For your scattered ashes have no one final resting place
They’ve been rooting, in that memory box looking for a story
The one you wouldn’t tell of that particular hell
That justified a war that took the lives of so many innocents
Some of whom you may have rescued
Carried what was left of their weight
Feeling every possible bone through their skin
For the ‘sin’ of just being born...
They’ve been rooting through that old wedding album
Of black and white photos to try and capture
And imagine the young bride who later became a mother
Caressing daughters, and yet could not be saved
When pneumonia was still in it’s medical infancy
and could not be cured - So all that is left are stories
Fading as fast as this latest summer season
They’ve been rooting over the alphabet keys
Attempting to find words to bring honor to lost loves
Two fathers and a mother who will never see
How words were found and handled
By the fingers that you helped to shape and form
Embodied in the next generation ...whose hands
Are learning to express love by touch
JP/davh
We Write Poems 121 What do hands do?
http://wewritepoems.wordpress.com/2012/09/05/prompt-121-its-post-your-poems-day/
Wednesday, September 5, 2012
5 comments:
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This is amazing...from rooting to writing. Good work, hands.
ReplyDeleteThis poem speaks with deep caring, love, and an awareness of loss. Words create their own energy and these speak clearly of tenderness. Thank you,
ReplyDeleteElizabeth
http://soulsmusic.wordpress.com/2012/09/05/about-letting-go/
The intensity of feeling shines out of this poem. A wonderful tribute linked by the action of your hands to your family.
ReplyDeleteThis is intensely loving. Beautiful poem and honor.
ReplyDeleteThis is brilliant Jules.
ReplyDelete