Her hands…
Gently folded to say a prayer
Quickly fixed for you
Stitches they made
Bread they made
The ground they cultivated
Tears they wiped
The unsung hands of a mother!
Those hands guided
Those hands cared
Those hands held
They did…
The unsung hands of a mother!
A little harder they tried
A little more they gave
They empty to fill yours
They lose for yours to win
The unsung hands of a mother!
By Susan McMillan
Rhythm In Life 
Reblogged this on O LADO ESCURO DA LUA.
Reblogged this on O LADO ESCURO DA LUA.
Beautiful. I often think of my Mama’s hands and my Daddy’s hands. They are both in Heaven now. I miss them dearly. Their hands gave unconditional love.
That’s beautiful. Hands do tell a story. When I look at someone’s hands, I always like to think that I can see their story of a life lived. Our mothers’ stories of love can be seen in those hands. Even though my own Mama’s hands I never had the joy of seeing, I believe all the above to be true if she were here. Thank-you 🌹
The very first post of yours I’ve read, and I can already say I look forward to reading many more! Your words are beautiful, and confirmation we are of similar heart. I wrote a poem many, many years ago — in either high school or college, about a grandmother’s hands. I will have to share it with you sometime. 🙂
Thank-you Laura. Please do share your poem, I would love to read it💞
“Lace”
Fragile hands
Folded contentedly in her lap …
Ice blue veins lace
Transparent skin stretched taut
Over brittle bone.
Hands that have turned the pages
Of time.
Lovingly, they soothed a fevered child
With the coolness of their touch.
Determined, they nurtured roses
Through hot Texas summers.
Reminiscent, sewing antique lace
On a daughter’s wedding gown.
Proud, holding her first grandchild.
Sorrowful, they laid a red rose
On her husband’s grave, and
Gently erased a single tear.
Hands growing cooler as the dusk falls.
— Laura Swan (1983)
I worked in a small town pharmacy when I was in college and one day an elderly woman came in to pick up a prescription. I noticed her hands when she paid for her prescription and they inspired this poem. ❤
Wow. This is a very strong and descriptive poem. Thank-you very much Laura for sharing. That is life in the raw; unedited. When we you write those words, they are real because you have seen exactly what you wrote. With all my poetry, I write real life that I have either lived or watched others live. Thank-you Laura ❤. Hugs 💞
Beautiful words that touched my heart as I remember my mum, I miss her so. I know she has gone to be with the Lord. Thank you for posting. Blessings
Cristina, I send you hugs🌹. I believe that mother’s touch is a precious touch to cherish.❤
La nostra vita è nelle nostre mani!
Sherazade
Beautiful. That makes me think of my grandmother. ❤
Ahhhh ❤. It’s a beautiful feeling. I was always grandma’s girl 💞
Great combo of a photo and thoughts! I still have my mother, who is aged, 93!
Wow. That must be a blessing. I lost my mama at the age of 3 but I am very thankful for she carried me. I trust God’s hand in my life.
Sorry, for your early loss. Yes, it is a blessing to have my mother, even at my age (68)!! God has been good.
God has remained faithful over the years to bring women in my life that have treated me as their own and for that I am thankful.
Lovely…I saw my mama’s hands as I read.
I love this one! A person’s hands tell a story, just as their face does.
Such a striking, beautiful treatment of maternal love. A treasure!
A lovely tribute to all mothers. I especially like the last stanza.
A little harder they tried
A little more they gave
They empty to fill yours
They loose for yours to win
The unsung hands of a mother!
Just a question, did you want to say lose or loose? Mothers give so willingly to their children. It is a special kind of love.
Thanks for visiting my blog. I look forward to reading more of your work. Have a beautiful day.