Resilience by Marie-Andree Auclair

My grandfather’s fierce hands
he wiggles fingers
tendons and veins glide
across the back of his hands
return to their place.
I press a vein by his wrist
trace path to knuckle
empty blue vein of blood
which finds its way back
after I lift my finger.

My grandfather’s thumb pads
I press my small one on his
watch my imprint turn white
flat depression
plumps up pink again
slowly back to itself.

My own thumb pads
instantly forget
leap back to self.

I wince when bitten by a fear
that I too will lose speed
and I want a scar
to keep me alert.