My, what these hands have touched,
carried
and blockaded,
held
and transformed,
prepared to hoist my body
upright off from off the floor
or raise up while my head lowers
in humility,
hold your hand, touch your face
feel your heart beat
for me, or so I thought.
They feel weathered, yet strong,
predicting the forecasted weather
ready to protect me.
I look down to admire
the scars, calluses and salted stains
that you helped to put there
and I thank you
for my hands are now ready
for any battle.
Dawning Words 