These are the hands,
That scraped against the school's
uneven pavement when running laps
The same hands that traced their
paper over a Sailor Moon S VHS
tape, just to get the anime eyes
right.
The hands that played bloody knuckles
to scare the guy that
underestimated her, due to her kind
demeanor
They were the ones that cut
through the air when sprinting through
that 4x4, and held my knees when I
was out of breath due to my eczema
The hands that snap back to
focus on the tasks they were handled to do,
to get out of my head, and to finish what needs to be done.
The ones that massaged
the very person that
loves me so dearly.
Her very hands being the
ones that kept me alive
The hands that massaged
my sore arms and legs
when I had the
stomach flu and food poisoning
The very hands that put
tomatoes on my burnt
legs, the hardworking
hands that never rested when patting my back
and my head to fall asleep
Her hands holding me in such
a way that makes me know I am
beautiful, no matter how my skin was at the time
Her hands carried me, and
taught me how to knead dough in such
a delicate manner, to make a perfect sphere
Her hands are what made my hands stronger,
to carry the weight, the burdens of people, enough to carry
and throw it all out
when the time is right
Her actions will stay in my memory,
and her hands will always remind me
of what compassion looks like.
YOU ARE READING
Contentment
PoetryContentment comes in all different forms; we get satisfied with what we are capable and incapable of doing in this life. These are the discoveries and little adventures I wanted to share with anyone who has ever felt lost and confused with finding t...
