poetry from another dimension

these hands

jessica and I
in the lobby
of the main house
at the ashram
spoke of 47 and
the blossoming of
creative wisdom
the release
of the me’s
we have been

we scribbled notes
and she spoke of saving the ocean
and other works of love and art
one project
capturing images of the hands of
women she loved

we gazed together
at these hands
smiling, thinking, sharing
yes, perhaps
these hands

tell a more accurate tale
than anatomies

they have worked
and they show it
a million dishes mopped
and counting
thousands or more
carrots chopped
for loved ones

these hands scruffed
toshi the cat
on the neck
cleaned his litter box
and folded the towel
over his tiny form
when life was over

grasping palms of dozens of lawyers
or more
as they emerged from the cuffs
of a navy blue suit
they’ve typed dozens of contracts and
shifted through thousands of file folders

etched hundreds of drawings
and planted many flowers

counted millions of dollars….bills and quarters
dropped into the hands of bankers, customers,
and into the cups of the
folks on the street

ten years or more now
they’ve aptly communicated to students
that which
I cannot say
in words
it’s hard to “lift up”
when no one gives you
a hand

the gods have used them
or so I hope
in treatment rooms
to ease the pains of the afflicted
so they could let go
and move again
and maybe even
move on

“A funny thing happened with these hands”
I said to Jess, turning them over
revealing the destiny
etched on the palms
“with each decision made to choose love”
instead of money”
“the lines became clearer”
“and cleaner”
“and stronger”

we smiled at each other

“and my life line”

So now,
while the backs of these hands may look
10 years older than this body
the palms of these hands
where the meridian of the heart pours forth
look younger than
they ever did

We smiled and our eyes met and we placed
our respective palms
time honored ritual
for thousands of years
and bowed to each other
at 47
celebrating our hands
and our
well spent years


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