Morwenna

These hands

When you look at my hands I want you

To wonder where they have been

To look beyond the age spots and wrinkles

To notice the scars as the scars of a life

To know that these hands have been lived in.

 

They’re a voice from earlier decades

Whispering

            Vibrating

                        Reverberating

 

A recording etched in the grooves of my skin

While the whorls of my fingerprints, there from my birth

Are overwritten and smoothed as they move towards death.