A Mother’s Hands
written by: Sadaf Naaz
Her hands, a map of silent prayers,
Etched with rivers of sacrifice.
Calloused fingers, soft as lullabies,
Stitching warmth into every wound.
Time may carve its lines too deep,
But love—oh, love never ages.
Her touch, a whisper of old monsoons,
Tracing memories in faded thread.
Palm lines hold the weight of years,
Yet cradle hope like newborn dawns.
The scent of spices lingers there,
A melody of home and hearth.
Hands that shaped the sun and moon,
Wiping tears like autumn leaves.
Braiding dreams into my hair,
Sewing courage into seams.
Fingers once small in hers entwined,
Still feel their haven, safe, divine.
And though the seasons turn and fade,
Her hands remain—my sweetest shade.
Sadaf Naaz is an advocate, author of seven books, legal writer, and Manupatra-certified legal researcher with 23,306+ certificates, 16 medals, and 10 trophies to her name. A Lawctopus campus leader and a standard member of the American Bar Association, she is also an active member of Young ICCA and YSIAC. Her expertise in law, research, and mentorship has been recognized globally. Featured in Lawctopus, Amar Ujala, Elephant Journal, Medium, and Legal Services, she continues to drive legal innovations while inspiring and mentoring future lawyers.
Latest posts by Sadaf Naaz (see all)
- A Mother’s Hands - March 29, 2025
