Michael Shepherd - ! ! Universe at Finger-tip

Two or three months back
my little finger caught in a closing hinge;
could have been worse…

since then, the nail’s been
every shade of blackish-brown,
living some ancient, primitive life, of battered claw,
or shellfish, bruised by rock and ocean,
yet preserving, in its shell
such tender life
as heroes live to save..

every day, I watch this primeval drama
as, secretly, beneath the horny shell
so measured in its protectiveness,
dying slowly like a hero who enfolds
a baby life within his arms,

secretly beneath, there grows a new pink life;
its promise makes me look afresh
at its neighbour nails; and marvel
at the delicacy of their shade
from crescent moon to nail so practical..
what lacquer could ever hope to match
this living beauty?

and I fall silent, still; humbled at this scene
that brings the universe’s law and love
here to my finger-end. No name of god,
or evolution, or Intelligent Design,
may encompass my humility;
I who know not my own finger-end;
humility so still, it’s even beyond prayer.
If praise can be one, without form -
then this is praise.

Michael Shepherd

http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/universe-at-finger-tip/