These hands have kneaded, massaged and comforted.
These hands have struck, slapped and punched, but never broke.
These hands have been bruised, burned, slashed and scarred, but never ever killed.
These hands know how to hold on, and when to let go.
These hands have been dipped in brownie dough and have offered the allocated bread.
These hands have flashed the Devil horns in loud venues, and beaten the heart in silent prayer.
These hands may not be flawless – they are stubborn and impulsive – but they can craft, mold and strum to perfection.
These hands may not be beautiful – the fingers are crooked and hairy – but they are a product of Divine creation.
These hands are mine. They may be diseased, 650 times over. But they can fight, and they’ll survive.