hands

times that weigh show us which fingers will catch us & which would rather let us fall.

when mine reached & they found nothing but cold, they fell by my side sad & heavy. they remembered the love they'd usually met, but they had to face that sometimes love changes & it doesn't run deep. maybe that's why they seem to be missing the heat that summer's beginning.

but home never fails to brim with hands that catch. after so many backhanded receivings, my fingers are shocked by the warmth they're finding & the hands they're holding & maybe most importantly the hands holding them. home's where we can break, & my fingers have mashed & clawed with the ebbs & flows.  they too have suffered deeply.

despite the fingers i lost these last earth turns, i know they're ones to be forgotten. when my throat found its stand & it led both hands & feet to desert, they knew they were fingers flawed despite the memories they'd shared. as grief dies & wholeness grows, my ten know which ones will be strong when they fall weak. my ten know which will love them regardless of any fate that befalls them.

& it should be said that there are those hands in that old mountain home that my fingers will always remember. the few pairs that didn't forget them & loved them amidst the storm. they're thankful that they remain, while the others were shed.  & for those from a far, somehow they held me & my hands together best. they reminded us eleven that we are strong & that the burning hurts but they loved me more for it.

though the darkness ran deep, light's beginning its win. and my hands praise all those that shared their light when mine was lost.