My hands are tired. 

They have blistered under the heat of a thousand suns, 

They have cracked at the fingernails, 

Riddled with knots that burn as they twist and pry. 

But I don’t stop moving them. 

One day my hands will heal, 

My back will straighten, 

My head will clear, 

My spirit will yield.  

And on that day, it will be worth the journey. 

It will be worth the work.  

But for now, 

I break my life  

So that others may be born and mended.