Her Hands

Her Hands



She looks down at her weary hands.

They ache from the toils of the day.

For every day they lovingly hold many lives,

Gladly being the hand of love,

The hand of kindness,

The  hand of patience,

And the hand of sacrifice.

Grateful to to give their all,

To lavish love and care

Upon the ones she loves.


She slowly stretches her fingers

And wincing at the pain

Wills them to go just a little farther

No….much farther

For  her hands may now indulge…

Indulge in the torture of weaving her future

In fact and in her own fashion

The wondrous treasures she creates

Matching the intricacies and beauty

Of her own precious soul.


In this, her hands work surely

Never a false  choice

Expertly fashioning delicate dreams

Made incarnate by their skill.

But tomorrow, she will wake

And doubt the deftness

Of those same hands.

The value of their labor

Though they strive

To prove their worth.


For despite their constant struggle

Furiously juggling countless crisis,

Malicious  pseudo friends

Carnivorous saints

They remain unsure of their way.

Rewarded  not only  with cold neglect,

But willful subjugation

And greedy consumption

They doubt, though they strive evermore.


Oh, there are glimpses

Brief reminders

Of the reason they and she,

Both drained, and aching struggle on…

But a taste of the promise,

A mere vision, a mirage

It leaves her soul craving

The aching more intense

For the brevity of the dream.


Sweet sister,

My beautiful Cinnimon girl

You are beautiful

Your sacrifice inspires me,

As does your patience and wisdom

Please know that your soul

And your spirit

Shine above all the rest!

You hold my heart in your hands

And it could not be safer!!

lonesurvivor lonesurvivor
56-60, F
8 Responses May 23, 2011

Honey you posted this in here? This is most deffinatly NOT 'BAD' poetry.<br />

This is not a bad poem! It is good!

Thank you for the encouragement!

Thank you so much for your kind comment! This is one of my favorites...thank you!!

Okay that was amazing and does not belong in this group. By the way, I can relate to this...im a massage therapist.

Thank you so much!!

all i could think of in the end was..<br />
<br />
Wauw.<br />
<br />
and read it again.

Thank you, both. This poem is an homage to my karmic twin, cinnimongirl44. xoxo