Black and grey tattoo of praying hands with a rosary, a cross and two banners reading IN GODS and HANDS, on a forearm.

Praying hands and cross on a forearm

Traditional · Forearm · Black and grey · Photo

A pair of praying hands with a beaded rosary hangs over a large cross, with two ribbon banners reading IN GODS and HANDS. The hands are shaded with soft greys and fine stippling, while the cross, banners and rosary beads use bold black outlines and flat fills. The design is in black and grey ink and fills the forearm from the wrist area upwards.

Traditional Realism Forearm Praying hands Rosary Cross Banner Hand

Find an artist for this

Take it to an artist as a reference. A good artist will make it yours rather than copy someone else's tattoo.

A story inspired by this tattoo · fiction

It is ten past three and Bay Four has gone quiet except for the drip pump clicking like a metronome. You are signing the controlled drugs book when Mrs Ada Pryce's son asks whether his mother is in God's hands now. You say what you always say, that she is comfortable, and he repeats the word back to you the way people do when they want a fact instead.

Keep reading

The rosary sits on the locker, wound twice around a plastic water jug. The beads are dark wood and one is chipped. She told you on the first night that she prayed the decades to keep her hands busy while the cannula was in, and you believed her, because nobody with a cannula in the back of their hand could have counted that many beads without help. You lift it and the little cross swings, and you think of the crucifix over the nurses' station that nobody dusts.

At four the porter wheels the trolley towards the mortuary lift, and you walk beside it as far as the swing doors. The son is standing in the corridor with his palms pressed together, not praying exactly, just holding them as if he has forgotten what else hands are for. You put the rosary into them. He closes his fingers around the beads, and for a moment the two of you stand there under the strip light, two people with nothing left to hold but a string of wood.

Back at the desk you write the time in the book, 04:12, and under belongings, one rosary, returned. Your hand is steady. The kettle begins to tick as it heats, and down the corridor a call bell chimes, so you pick up your pen and go, because that part is still yours and the rest, as far as you can tell, has never been.