an apology (again)
i am sorry
for my empty hands
and the burden they put upon you
i am a fool, it seems
put on by these dreams so vivid
but of little truth
my father and mother had empty hands
they sent me off to school with hope and a rubber check to pay for books
there
they filled my head
with facts and ideas enough that they began to push out the simpler things
like my mother and father
my head was full
but my hands were still empty
which meant little to me, though it should have
but i was content to play with my thoughts and ideas
and live night to day
with little remainder
but now
i watch you in the kitchen
after a long day that tries to dull the light in your brown eyes
but never succeeds
i watch you
gathering the spices and chopping the vegetables and giving yourself over to the three of us
even after giving so much of yourself already to the rest of the angry world that lashes out because it is backed into the same corner we are
and i hate these empty hands
that they can't give you the comfort you deserve
that your every desire is not within my ability to fulfill
that i can not ease your feet and burden they way i that do in my daydreams
and i hate that my empty hands are your empty hands too
and their empty hands as well
most of all
i need to see that my hands are full
void of wealth and comfort maybe
but filled by our tiny hand in mine
facing challenges and trials
and bigger than my hands
are my arms
and you laying peaceful and dreaming in them in the last few moments of the fleeting day
your tomorrow
my yesterday
the brief interval of time we share
the seconds and minutes
and maybe an hour or two
when these empty hands are insignificant
when all that matters are my arms
wrapped around the warmth of your body in our bed
in the dark and cold night
that i fought so long with nothing in my defense but empty hands
and it grew and stalked me
the darkness that would feed upon the human soul
and cares not about hands, empty or full
but can be defended against only by the shield of true love
laying warm and breathing slow in my arms and against my body
in the dawning eastern light refracted off the butte
when there is nothing in the world but you and i
between darkness and dawn
waking and dreams
my hand filled with yours
and yours filled with mine
You make me love you more everyday. You've done it again.