My sword: prompt.

These Hands

Aging activism

Photo by ngozi Assata on Unsplash

Two hands — My swords

Once tan and soft
now pale and wrinkled
with a map of veins
leading blood
to the heart I need
to continue the cause.

These hands held signs,
wrote letters, changing
the human perspective.

These hands said goodbye
to those leaving and
hello to those arriving.

These hands held other hands
and led children, providing
comfort and guidance.

These hands wiped tears
and bandaged knees
and clapped in joy.

These hands reached down
and up and carried,
pushed and prodded.

These hands ache at night,
weary from years of
too much and not enough.

These hand cannot give up
for the never-ending battle
is always before me.