I see my hands;they tell my story,
I look at hers and his;they tell their story, a story never told by any!
Our stories are all different by our hands,
We all say our hands have touched different seasons of life,
We say our hands have touched the hot or the cold,
Our hands have built or destroyed!
Our hands have held another,
Our hands have held on or not,
They have let go or have been let go,
Our hands have written out our hearts or have trembled and chosen to erase what they have tried to write down.
Our hands have wiped tears even though some of their hands don’t have that experience
My hands have touched and held the beauty of a child that some hands haven’t!
Her hands have held her baby when taking her last breathe,
Our hands have reached out!
Our hands have welcomed,
Our hands have waved goodbyes,