Poem by C Bangs
Return
How many times I would watch my Father’s hands.
Curiously worn & gnarled they would feel their way through a problem
hesitate, fumble & then with a flash of insight would understand & arrive
at a solution.
Engineer, he taught me by many ways how to arrive at a solution
How to approach a problem, open without grasping but letting the material speak to him.
Together they would arrive at a solution.
This hand stilled nearly by death once more responded with faint parting pressure to my gentle squeeze.
This hand knew that we are star stuff reaching for the stars.