Day 6 – Old Child’s Hands

When we only look with our eyes
we don’t always see what is before us.
I love hands, they do so many things, tell so many stories.
But they aren’t always what they seem to be.

The old man and woman sit together everyday holding hands.

Despite being wrinkled, arthritic, with sunspots and scars, hands don’t
always equal life beyond the reach of childhood.
Listen carefully to the shaky voice,
look past the trembling hands, and you might see
memories of yesterday are alive again today,
just as a twinkle appears in once dull lifeless eyes.
The child that was, can still be hiding,
as if mischievously, behind the mask of years.

Now look at the large, gnarled, bruised hands of the old man.
Farmer’s hands, they have helped many cows labour to birth,
straightened damaged fences, laboured through
drought and floods and once, even rescued a driver
trapped in a car minutes before it burst into flames.
The same hands have tenderly held their babies
as nurses tended to his exhausted wife.
Holding her hands he doesn’t see the near blind eyes,
confused by time,
not remembering him.
He sees something else, and his gnarled hands tenderly hold hers
as if love is always freshly born, and doesn’t die with minds.

So, when we look with more than our eyes
we will see beauty where others see loss.

After a lifetime of growing seeds of kindness in all kinds of weather,
love bears precious fruit.

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