Metal hooks instead of hands
and synthetic arms with no hair or freckles,
and she walks down a busy road and waves to me.
Her wave only extends breast high
and I feel guilty for thinking of a Hitler salute.
Waving back I wish I knew her whole story.
I wondered when the last time nerve endings
stretched all the way to the edge of the peninsulas.
I thought of hugs and handshakes and shampoo.
I thought of jar caps and bra straps.
I thought of pointing and thumbs up.
And then I wondered(not wishing this on her)…
What if blindness came?
How would she know a face?
Would she rub her cheeks against mine?
Would she read my eyes and lips and nose
with her toes?
I look at my hands, their knuckles and nails,
their veins and follicles and am grateful
that I can feel the pony tail of my five-year old.
I thank God for the miracle of sensory extensions cupping
my wife’s face and feeling the warmth of tears
moist in my palms.
Then I think of the lady with no lifelines
holding out love with metal appendages…
I behold her and thank God and her
for the pondering of mysteries.
Gerald the Writer 
Leave a reply to Jo Bryant Cancel reply