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Posts Tagged ‘hands’

Aspiring

Posted in Uncategorized, tagged , , , , on May 10, 2015| 3 Comments »

My mother’s hands are now
my hands—blue cords
of veins, brown thinning skin,
the fingerpads rough from gardening,
and dirt in the fingernails.
My hands, like hers, raise on their own
to gently touch a loved one’s cheek,
to pull the hair away from their eyes,
and to pull the loved one close.
These hands love to make pie
and do puzzles and pinch back dead flowers.
These hands are seldom still.
I do not know how to read a palm,
but I can read her story here
in these hands that were taught
to love the world, to stay open,
to find bells that long to be rung
and to ring them, these hands,
they are her hands, what a gift
to confuse them, to use them
as if they were hers.

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Down by the Riverside Haiku

Posted in Uncategorized, tagged , , , , on December 22, 2012| 3 Comments »

so cold I could al-
most forget about your hands—
not quite.

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