Writing is my escape.
-Johanna Hefer-
Writing is the painting of the voice
-Voltaire-
To survive you must tell stories
-Umberto Eco-
To write means more than putting pretty words on a page; the act of writing is to share a part of your soul with the...
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My mother, my matriarch. Memories of holding your hands. My haven in the dark. You're the only one who understands.
Hands so soft and slender, wiped away my tears when I cried. Comforted me, my defender. My consolation at my bedside.
Hands that were lazy for nothing. Holding us with love, cooking a meal. Attend to a cut with a kid-glove, and washed our clothing. A passionate woman of steel.
The same hands that held the Bible, Gaining soul-food each day. The same hands held together in prayer, praying for the impossible. The same hands placed in the hands of the Most High, to take you away.
