I wipe the grief off of my hands.
My hands that are stained with the tears of loss.
The fingers that tuck the hairs behind my ears,
Of the locks that carry the salt of the tears I've cried.
I wipe the grief off my hands.
I wash the palms that hold the face,
Of the parents that once comforted me,
In my times of need.
I wipe the grief off of my hands.
The hands that understand that,
There is never enough toughness
To make this ache go away.
I wipe the grief off of my hands.
And weep again with the ache,
As I hold them together.
Knowing that in this world,
They cannot entwine again with his.
As I wipe the grief off of my hands,
I look for the hands that offer to comfort me,
On this journey I'm still on.
To pick me up and help me stand;
As I struggle for a way to
Wipe this grief off of my hands.
