scarred hands

stained hands scar rough lines upon the dirt,
reinforcing a framework built upon a thousand lifetimes.
held within such intricate lace:
forgotten tongues and faded memories,
each lost upon the sea of lines, worn away by time.
each cut and curve defines a single moment
chronicling innumerable loves and lies,
periodically marked by falling tears
of those caught within such carving task.
importantly, such daily work 
diverts each eye unto the ground,
so that each ephemeral being, squatting,
carving on the dusty plain 
ignores the twisted branches and gnarled trunks,
of the darkness crouching patiently
on horizons edge.

Reviews

[Chris]

What I took away with me from your "table" was a sense of the moments each scar and abrasion defined. Seems we all await the horizon's arrival with yesterday's memories...

[Malister Mikey]

This is a very well written poem, great job with this one.

[Christopher Withers]

Thank you, I wasn't sure if it was a bit "stilted" but decided to post it anyway!