The free hand

Darkened, wrinkled, knotted, sore
From countless hours of weary chore
Swollen joints stiff to their core
Never finished always more
To keep that old wolf from the door
This was the role they played – they were tired

Washed and clean, nails neatly clipped
From dirt and toil they’re finally stripped
A rosary through joined fingers dipped
All tension from these hands has slipped
Gently joined, they’re now equipped
To hold a crown of gold – they are free

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