My Grandfather's Hands

Those thick leathery finger tips

That smell of soil and sawdust

I remember black in the gashes

Those pale scars

Those thick yellowing nails

I remember blue bulging veins

Descendants of a boxer

Descendants of an artist

I saw them till the earth and carve up timber

I saw them prune roses

I saw them craft furniture

Those hands held me

They swung me in the air

They pushed me in the wheelbarrow

They guided the rope of our gokart

I held his hand as we wandered in the grasslands looking for bush tucker

I saw his hand calve my name into a gum

His strong hand validated me that day

The first to ever do so

Five years late is better than never

I wasn't strong but I was stronger from that day

A seed of hope was sown into my heart

By those affirming hands

Hands that still hold me long after they've entered their rest