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Poem

Hands

We give the gift of our past, 
to our children, 
in prayers for their future. 
We talk about all the pluses 
and measured advantages, 
they may have to have, 
just to make it through life. 

Looking in the mirror, 
I see the face of my father. 
His eyes stare back, brown...
I watch the expressions closely, 
and know that I can not hear him, 
but he is still here. 
He is with me. 

My mother gave me other things, 
empathy, sympathy, sincerity, 
and compassion. 
She taught me to see the world, 
through the eyes of pure wonder. 
Amazing grace, 
just the beginning of the lessons, 
learned, repeated, and adjusted
to the moment of need. 

My family...
is truly bigger than a few, 
it is far-reaching.
It is the accumulation of a lifetime, 
the knowledge of all those 
that came before, 
in an effort to give to those 
that are still to come. 

Yet is it is the kinship...
the relation to God, that is unbreakable. 
It is stronger than steel 
and harder than diamond. 
With Him...
together we are bound, 
and as one we raise...
and we know, 
He... is always King!

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