Hand

I have been inspired by another blipper's work.

This hand (and the other one, not far away) has quite a history. It has been in a lot of muck. It has cleaned a lot of mess. It has held very tiny babies. Just after their first breath. It has caressed a sad soul. It has held and supported one in need of more than I or anyone could ever support.

It has touched. Touched a body. A breast, oh and lingered, paused, and absorbed the wonder of a breast, a nipple, the soft delicate curve, the indescribable that is a woman's breast. And a belly. Oh, and to trace a face. It has held another hand, a foot - yes a delicate, tender, ticklish foot. It has touched a heart. A soul. A spirit. All with perfect love. All with great gentleness and tenderness. With selflessness.

This hand has hit, in anger - though not often and not for a very long time. It has teased, accused, warmed, and even blessed more than once. It has opened doors. It has closed them too. It plays beautiful music (and some pretty atrocious stuff too). It has been offered as a guide, as an aide, as a crutch.

Sadly, it has also held down, dismissed and rejected. It has crushed. What? A heart? Yes. A will? I hope not, but I fear it. A soul? I think not. I pray not.

The careful observer will note this hand does not work very hard. You probably cannot tell this, but it has never worked very hard. Well, once in a while it has, but not as a rule.

I think you cannot tell this by looking, but it holds the most treasured of gifts. It has touched and it holds the hearts of three cherished children. And it holds the heart of one very wonderful woman.

And it is directly connected to my heart.

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