Hands have two sides.

One faces down as we lie, closing off what we can no longer see underneath.

It is turned toward the past and what we have lived and its carapace is marked by spots and wrinkles of our living.

The finger nails are hardened like the defensive hide of dinosaurs and armadillos and keep out what is still to come.

The other side has its own name, the palm facing upward as we lift and is extended to risk acceptance.

It is our still tender youth and innocence which we may offer to those we trust, the soft flesh waiting in hope for salvation, for love and forgiving.

It is like the palm of apes so naked in its turn towards what may be. 

When I die please close my eyes to look inward at my failings and turn my palms upward in hope.