Master Jack was old and grey; time had passed him by, <br />Wizened hands betrayed his age, still a glint lay in his eye; <br />Physique so very frail now, had fought a thousand ‘wars’, <br />Waiting now upon God’s will; Jack’s life had lost its cause. <br /> <br />The souls of those who’d mattered; were now long in their graves, <br />Fond memories of times gone by, crashed over him in waves. <br />His children had all forsaken him; forsaken him every one, <br />Embarrassed by his manner, and the sharpness of his tongue, <br /> <br />Tears fell upon his trembling hands, as he gazed on them with love, <br />These hands had been God’s gift to him, from heaven up above; <br />Hands that blessed the Lord almighty; gave thanks for all their food, <br /> Those hands had even built their home, beside the forest wood. <br /> <br />Hands carved their wooden furniture; and planted crops to sell, <br />When drought had struck the barren land, they dug for him a well, <br />Skilled hands had caught his children, emerging from the womb. <br />Seven boys, and three small girls; now adults in full bloom. <br /> <br />Gnarled hands from manual labor, digits enflamed and sore, <br />Busy hands made impotent; were functioning no more, <br />Spastic hands, arthritic hands; worked now ‘to the bone’, <br />Not one soul to help him farm; Master Jack prayed all alone. <br /> <br />“My Lord I have to thank you, for these two hands of mine, <br />The countless tasks accomplished, through your two gifts Devine”, <br />Calloused hands now pressed in prayer; “I wish new turf to roam”, <br />Soulful eyes glinted heavenward, “Please Lord… take me home” <br />Alf Hutchison<br /><br />Alf Hutchison<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/8-master-jack/
