Your hands reached across the table
Alabaster. With hints of vein underneath
Chipped nail polish. It was black, it was dark
They lay on the table, an invite to heal
I remember those hands when they were mine
When your hands always entwined between
My fingers, like our bodies once. When those
Hands traced infinite patterns across
Trailing my body, words spelled impossibly,
but always read as love, in language unknown
And I, forever, hold those hands in my heart
The place were the universal language lives
I once sat in your class, a sermon on divinity
And throughout, across from me, you drew
Your pencil created a hand, yours at rest
While you drew with the other, creating you
I cried in front of you, neither once nor twice
I have lost count of the times I sobbed
As I looked at the woman you were becoming
The woman you became, the woman you are
You touched me when my hurt slipped
Into the tangle of my beard and they carved
Lines I’d wear forever, perhaps invisible to you
Striations of fingernails carving out tears
Your hand wrapped around mine. I imagined.
Memories and fantasy of a world untrue
When that hand that held me, was mine
And the storm abated, you held found me
Your hand pulled me from precipice,
A small gesture, but it was real enough
And it centred me. Calmed me. Made real.
That you could be across from me
And that chasm of time and hurt was mended
our hands in a place we could never be again
Together, wrapped around each other
With love that held on, no matter what comes
But those were just our hands, weren’t they.
That’s what you’d say. I know as much.
But I felt your hand on my neck, that small
Innocent gesture meant the world to me.
Your hand once waved and in it, I saw love
I imagined forgiveness and reunion and hoped
But I was a child. I still am. A fool to think it.
Your hand began a story, written over years.
The story isn’t over, unlike you and I
Time has taken its toll, and it weighs terribly
And so that hand that once held me
I let go of, and my fingers unwrap and I am