“Look, I’ve written your names
on the backs of my hands…” Isaiah 49: 15-18

I look at the dorsal aspect of my hands,
The skin is growing transparent,
It looks like rippling waters.
Whatever else is in my veins
Runs out the tips of my fingers.
Age spots no longer distress me,
There’s nothing I can grasp
With the backs of my hands,
Nothing I can hold or possess
Except the names written there
And the heavens above.