hand

Michaelangelo saw the moment
when God made man a man.
Divinity touched his hand,
the hand through which life was given--
a life of seeking and erring.

My hand held his hand
across the thin blue glove.
The fleshy palm that warmed another's palm,
once held by his mother's hands,
once much stronger than my hand.

The earthly creases,
the familiar grooves,
passing a universe
of immortalities unknown.

He feels,
the warmth of my blood.
I am stunned,
by its likeness to my own.

Carefully, I let go.
Stay, rest,
remember here lies
the beginning of a man.