A Blessing of Hands
I warm my hands at the fire of my soul.
My hands that broke my fall last spring.
My hands that grasped the walker, clasped the brace,
all summer, all autumn.
My hands that wrote and rested.
Other hands cut me and healed me.
Other hands held me and fed me.
All hands reached out, to and from me.
Some hands gave, some hands took.
May my heart live in love at the hearth of my home.
May my spirit be kindled at the forge of my art.
May my words be steady and true
as my hand makes, as my voice speaks.
Deep in this winter night
my cold hands stir and sift my soul,
a trace of faint inklings
to flourish and nourish me in all the hours
of this new year.
– Cari Ferraro