These Hands

Tiny hands with ripped cuticles
With bloody little cracks and creases
With lopsided, broken nails.
Fingers that are beautifully long
And fragile looking
But look terrible with silver rings.
These fingers are writing fingers
Bent and gnarled
From holding a pencil and eraser
Red from being stabbed at
By the fine tip of a calligraphy pen
The blood trickling like red wax
To become the signed seal
Of a journal entry.
No pain, these hands say
As they are rubbed raw by parchment
By binder paper, by special art papyrus.
These hands are suffering hands,
Small but resilient
Little but strong.
They love butterfly kisses,
They love to be held
They long for perfumes and lotions
And comforting salves,
But the thing about these hands is
That they never ask for anything.
These hands are selfless hands
And I am proud
Because these tiny
Thoughtful, tough little hands….
These hands are my hands.

-Lauren Hatch
April 23, 2007