these hands

there are changes in the weather
that lives in your eyes; we will experience
a high chance of storm
but still,
the sun will shine.

the sun will shine where you soul has hidden away from.

these hands were your shelter
delicate, but firm
the lines told you stories of all you could live for,
and you’d grown to learn them like the map of our universe.
now you have gone astray,
like a leaf amidst the wind, spiralling out of reach,
and i only hope you will not forget the contours of these fingers,
these cuticles that don’t quite fit around the nails
from bad habits that cannot be broken.

i forgave the hurricane,
when i learnt its ways and learnt to appreciate
the beauty of destruction;
i looked in, i sat in the centre of the hurricane
and heard its hum,
calm and peaceful amongst the forces that churned and unwound.

these hands are still your shelter
no matter which way you wish to run
and the paths will hopefully
lead you to where you wish to be held again.

these hands are shaking, but they will still carry you
and still do their best
to catch rain.