The things I had wished for my hands

Were not weathered skin
nor aging joints.
Not knuckles broken and
nails bitten too far down.
Not as the instruments of debauchery
nightly sacrificing my once good name,
opening doors better left unopened
to inner rooms
better left
unknown.

But, to lack obscenity
and vulgar display.
To often lift and rarely destroy.
To bring forth rather than deny and oppose.
To guide and to lead,
to carry the torch and
the
weight.

Callouses by honest,
hard work wrought.

Commanding to cum,
yet,
offering a calm reassurance of comfort.

To now and again have,
to now and again hold.

To fold humbly in prayer
for absolution
and a promise of peace
everlasting.