Manos
Hands met each other again this morning
they touched gently - caressed - loved.
It has been a long time
since they prayed together like this.
It was a silent sermon
a benediction.
Fingers intertwined like sea anemones
tenderness kissed each fingertip.
Left hand was shy
right hand coaxed and urged
until they danced slowly, as one
with their bones, veins,
callouses and crinkled skin.
They are old hands, beautiful hands
they will stay together now
and not stray
for they live in faith
bound as one with the blood
that nourishes them.
Together
they have accomplished many great things,
they also have shared shameful times,
they let those memories
flow away as they rest together
in pillowing palms.
These hands weep as only the shape of love can.
They have explored, they have cradled,
they have known violence,
experienced
horrors and dark deep nights of despair.
They bathe together now
wash the mind that moves them,
remain devotional
until at last
they fall from the flesh into the earth that
birthed them.
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