My Hand

He does not hold it
so much as heft it
as though it is
knife
or stone
or newborn

He does not heft it
so much as cradle it
as though it is
broken
winged
or dying

He does not cradle it
so much as weigh it
as though it
weighs the weight

of a world
that he might live in
or shrug off
or
perhaps
remake.

He does not
hold it
so much as
take it
as though it is
burden
as though it is
gift.

July 8, 2012