Words From the Blacksmith's Wife, "The Blacksmith's Hands"

This is a drawing I did and a poem I wrote that was published in The Upsetter, a small, bi-monthly publication turned out by MABA (Michigan Artists Blacksmith Association) 

The Blacksmith’s Hands

His hands are leathered,
weathered and worn.
The skin on his knuckles
is reddened and torn.

There is thought in his temples,
and sweat on his brow.
There’s a glow in his eyes
of yesteryear and now.

In swords and in daggers,
and metal luminescence,
an internal grin gilded,
of boyhood reminiscence.

With the embers of his passion
the strong iron bends,
and art is created
in the smiths gentle hands.

There is warmth in the curves,
and love in the twists,
as the cold metal softens
readies the hammer in his fist.

There is friendship with the anvil
that stays strong through all beating,
and it rings a familiar song
while the blacksmith’s creating.

A soft charcoal shadow
leaves his fingernails dark,
and ingrained in his skin
as he stamps the touch mark.


           -Jennifer Murphy

These are the hands that inspired me.

And they've been washed...

Several times...

With Lava soap and a brush...

I try to give him manicures, but he fights me like a Badger in heat. Not that I've ever met a Badger in heat, but I can imagine, can't you?