A limb we grow, a flexible, powerful, moving end to a whole
In twos with fives and twos of fives as ten
Honesty exhibited in the trembling ends in the touches of fear
Each shake a built up murmur of muscles strained too tight
Torturing itself in the confines and barriers of the skin
Displaying joy, excitement, adrenaline
Palms pool with moisture and drip into lines of the head, heart and life
Watering the creases for they emerge deeper and more defined through the ages, as markers of past, present and futures
Each finger is lowered and raised to count, track and quantify the elements into manageable understandings
With sturdiness and strength of knowledge
With numbers and measurements of fingers and thumbs clasped around bases and necks
Nails brightly chipped and scratched into soft vulnerable flesh to mark an arrival and departure of your stubbornness and mine, and your strength and mine
Curled fingers into pressed fists, ridges of knuckles like mountainous landscapes rising when the sun boils over and hidden when the sky blackens to blue
A fists raised high, charging in momentum for freedoms fought with fuels
Index fingers first, pointed to the heavens, as holy as clouds lifting your thoughts
Palms extend to yours and hover for questions, pensively waiting on answers where softness of fingers brushing unique prints provide all the answers ever needed
As hands and flesh are dissolved into one and tingles race up arms to hearts in a competition of endings
Softened palms with hardened calluses are raised again with directed movements through persuasions of the wind
We pass by and pass on, the hands of time.
(Artwork: Felicity Rogers)