We Know You

I know you through your hands and mine.
Ready, steady, "do de do de do"
Those hands are our integrity
and always will be.

I know you when I pass an ice cream cone to little hands,
and when I drink water from an enamel tin dipper.
I know you when I dry my hands beside a wash basin
or when I feel like filling someone's boots up with water.

I know you when I haul little cold feet into my bed in the morning.
I remember how warm it is in the middle,
how good it smells and how soft your pajamas were,
compared to your sandpaper chin.

I know you when I put my hands down on cool smooth cement
and in the crisp, wet cold of a bottle of beer on a hot summer day.
I know you when I clean potatoes or husk corn
and when I set buttery spent cobs beside my plate.

I know you when I hold baby birds,
or run rosary beads through my fingers.
I feel you rich in handfuls of soil
and in wood rubbed smooth by grain.

I know your big fingers giving into the temptation
of dunking oatmeal cookies into the creamy green mug -
even though this clearly constitutes a bit of messin'
with sunlight and work left to do over your shoulders.

I know your hand on my shoulder - and am careful and quiet
when I am handling traps,
or holding my rifle, or my timing or my signature
or when someone is on the phone.

I know your smile when I drive a deal
or take the time to find the right tool for the job at hand
or when I feel the first drops of rain
and when I am man enough to pray anywhere, unashamed.

I know you in the straightness of my rows, the straightness of my back,
the collar of my suit and the angle of my cap.
I know you in the sweet smelling tingle of cold gasoline
and in one glass of royal red port after Mass.

I know you when I squint my eyes and wrinkle my considerable nose,
to let people know I think something is really funny.
I know you when anger rumbles up from my guts -
and know that it means I am a man worth something.

I know your satisfaction, when your lessons show themselves.
"You never know who's with you and who's behind who.
You are better off not saying too much to anyone."
I know that everything you have ever said has been truth for me.

I know you most, when my hands feel strong little shoulders,
and I hear strong little voices saying strong little prayers
asking that we might learn from each other and from you,
to be kind and gentle - and strong and wonderful

and I know that my children know you, too.

They always will.

IJC
Saskatchewan, February 2004

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