His Trembling Hands

My father’s hands are purple
and shake like
birds hiding in a bush.
Why are you hiding
from us, Daddy?
When the doctor told you
he was nearly certain
your hands signed the
coming of days worse than this--
you would not have told us.
But Mother shook the bush
and your hands told
my brothers and me
that the list was growing
longer. Your heart, by-passed,
kidney removed,
blood too sweet,
and now your trembling hands.
I don’t wish you gone, but
it is painful to think of you
going this way.
If I hold your fingers in mine,
can we together ward off
the fear, or will I start to
tremble, too, with you?


(written several years ago after Dad was diagnosed with Parkinson's. He is presently in a nursing care facilty, with little hope of ever getting home again.)