Unconditionally Open Poem by Eric Cockrell

these hands,
that took yours
and walked away from all
we knew.

these hands,
that laid brick,
cut wood,
plowed gardens,
picked up trash

built fences for the dogs,
held the children
when they were small,
held your hands
at the hospital

stroked your body,
touching forbidden places
with gentleness and
passion

wrote the poetry
hidden in your eyes

these hands,
now old and calloused,
sometimes tremble,
sometimes hard as stone

these hands are open,
without fear or trepidation,
unconditionally open
waiting for yours.