Precious hands.
Those two hands have never hurt me,
never pushed me away.
Those two hands were always busy,
preparing food and washing clothes,
fixing pillows and sheets,
cleaning the house and pulling weed,
from the abandoned graves.
Those two hands held the Bible
and the little black handbag,
walking to church.
I loved holding those hands and
watch them by their daily tasks,
they always worked so hard.
I’ve learned so much.
The last time I saw those hands
was, when you were leaving this earth.
They were so calm,
resting on your chest.
They held the Bible,
taking it to the the most beautiful place.

(dedicated to my granny)