Hands

Only when you have lost it do you realise how precious it is to you.

My hands, always doing, moving, making.

I cut myself.

I’m lucky, realising now, this hasn’t happened more seen as the secateurs is always in or near my hands.

As the blood flowed, tears would not.

At first I could not register, a plaster will do fine.
Only when that got washed off
from the flow of thick red blood
my entire body trembled and wept silently.
For it was my body that realised, long before I did
what had just happened.

So now when I cannot
my family takes over
and I can stop
running around in circles.
I am left
with time
and rest
and walks in the fresh clear air
to rediscover magic in life.

 

Every cloud with it’s silver lining…..

sparkling trees

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My Hands