Life Lines
today the priest said
that what he loves most
about Mass
is looking at the people’s hands
as they reach out to him;
holding their palms up to God
the gnarled, wrinkled hands
toasted brown by sun and calloused
by shovel handles, wheelbarrows
and heavy loads
the small, freshly pink
hands of children, wearing white
to ones with nails manicured
so perfect and fragile
they reject anything on them
for fear they’ll break
the hands that are missing fingers
and thumbs
the ones scarred
or so loaded with rings you wonder
how they’re being held up
and the ones not strong enough
to be held out
and so you can only guess
at them, if you’ve got the
time
it makes me wonder what
my hands look like
as the body of Christ
descends into my possession
in ingestion
because I’m trying to look at them
on my own
but I come up blank
I guess I’m too close
to my own skin
to read
my own lifelines
[Published in Time of Singing (print, Pennsylvania)]
