Sherpa

I have held
Lifetimes of defeat
And bereavement
In these two hands
Hands
Now cracking
While the skin
Stretches tight
And white knuckles
Poke through

Hands long ready
To dig
Their own grave
Lay this body down
And pull the earth
Over the top of itself

How much longer will they
Raise food to my lips
Touch my wife
Light the smoke
Pour the drink
Pull the trigger
Or pet my cats
For a second of peace

How long
Until nothing
These hands are capable of
Can lift me any further