i have my grandpa’s hands,

i have my grandpa’s hands.

the hands of a man

more my father than my father

(or the folks i called “Dad”)

hands of a man that taught me to count

and clap

hands that held my head as

i cried

[ah, sweet injustices of life…]

hands of an artist/insomniac/painter

my hands, splayed out against his

nail shape, finger form, vein placement,

nearly identical

i have my grandpa’s hands.

 

and with them all his love and beauty.

i have my grandpa’s hands