Family Hands

Last Sunday we got in the car and we drove
 To the town you were raised in, your boyhood home
 The trees were just turning, up on the ridge
 And this was your valley when you were a kid
 You showed me the railroad that your daddy worked on
 As we neared the old house where your granny lives on
 She's nearing ninety years now, with her daughters by her side
 Who tend the places in the heart where loneliness can hide
 Raised by the women who are stronger than you know
 A patchwork quilt of memory only women could have sewn
 The threads were stitched by family hands, protected from the moth
 By your mother and her mother, the weavers of your cloth
 Your grandmother owned a gun in 1932
 When times were bad just everywhere, you said she used it too
 And the life and times of everyone are traced inside their palms
 Her skin may be so weathered, but her grip is still so strong
 And I see your eyes belong to her and too your mama too
 A slice of Virginia sky, the clearest shade of blue
 Raised by the women who are stronger than you know
 A patchwork quilt of memory only women could have sewn
 The threads were stitched by family hands, protected from the moth
 By your mother and her mother, the weavers of your cloth
 And a rich man you might never be, they'd love you just the same
 They've handed down so much to you besides your Christian name
 And the spoken word won't heal you like the laying on of hands
 Belonging to the ones who raised you to a man
 Raised by the women who are stronger than you know
 A patchwork quilt of memory only women could have sewn
 And the threads were stitched by family hands, protected from the moth
 By your mother and her mother, the weavers of your cloth