his hands.

his hands, 
though calloused from
guitar strings and hard work
are the most gentle i've known.
He uses them 
to methodically rub out
the sciatic nerve that sings
a cacophony
 in my lower back,
and press into the soreness 
as i carry 
his third offspring.
He uses the hands to shovel 
the piles of snow
remove fattened trash bags 
to the curb
and restoring order to the garage
so a brand new car can be stored there
that doesn't even 
belong to us.
He uses his hands to change diapers
feed hungry mouths.
He clenches his fists
as he jogs his way through the 
polar vortex outdoors
keeping up with 
health and fitness.
He raises his hands in worship
in surrender
in brokenness 
and joy
that He belongs to the King.
He uses his hands 
to pray
to speak
to comfort
his hands on my shoulders, 
my arms,
the gentle stroke of my face
love is transfered 
through his fingers
and i 
am thankful.