Her Hands
written by: Yvonne Brewer
Her hands sketch many stories.
Deep lines criss-crossing over buried memories
of life’s losses and gains.
A secret map that leads without the nudge of
a compass to many winding lanes.
To closed doors and overgrown pathways,
hedges, trees, brambles and
bright openings of white roses
and pink cherry blossoms.
Wild running water in secret streams,
cries, laughs, potions of tasted
sensations and forgotten dreams.
Her palms mirror the print of every hand held
and every heart that bled their troubles, so her loving
hands could rest on their shoulders.
The palms of her hands carry stepping-stones
of stardust foot-prints, treasured ashes
from her ancestors’ silent bones.