Hands

 Sometimes I think of my hands as two lovers 

While joined in prayer, 

They are the happiest 

Gripping each other lovingly 

Finally one

After a day of bitter separation

The fingers arch over the knuckles

They fumble over the craters of my hands

Fitting perfectly into one another 

A divine jigsaw 

Flesh instead of cardboard

With carved lines branching like roots 

Traces of an eventful past 

Bending into an unknown future 

But mortal like all other 

Just two hands 

Two lovers 

One in prayer 

Happier than ever