Her hands.


Her Hands.
Her hands had known
and touched and felt
the best and the worst
that life had to offer.

They’d held a newborn
they’d kneaded bread
they’d mended sweaters
they’d caressed her man

felt a rose petal
petted a cat
soothed a boo boo
prayed to God.

Her hands had seen
their share of toil
and despair
triumph and joy
sorrow and love.

Her hands had
served God.


“Her Hands” by Michael Traveler

 

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