Gray, marble-like hands with thick, sturdy fingers

Awkwardly entwined in the rosary

Well camouflage their owner’s past

For these were the tools that once…

 

Painted love on empty paper,

creating a poem for mother

 

Grasped the pick and shovel of manhood,

taking wages from earthen bowels

 

Gripped a gun with hesitation,

holding back the wounds of battle

 

Closed the eyes of a bloodied friend,

revolting at the stickiness of death

 

Caressed a young wife,

aching for the secret warmth of woman

 

Calmed a frightened daughter,

proud of the role of protector

 

Planted seedlings in the numbed soil of spring,

tending, nurturing a perennial harvest

 

Passed a worn leather wallet to a panicked spouse,

a lifelong trade of dreams for scraps of identity

 

Clutched a tightened, heaving chest

finally free to just let go