In my hands

In my hands,

I can hold

A thousand

Pretty things.

Hopes,

And dreams,

And promises

Held in offering.

A kiss,

A squeeze,

A soft caress,

A shiny, shiny ring.

Butterflies,

And compliments,

And magic

Sweet nothings.

But in my hands,

I also hold

So much suffering

And pain.

Clenched hands

In fists,

And grasping claws,

And angry, angry veins.

Cuts,

And cracks,

And bitter slaps,

And flightless words in chains.

The good,

The bad,

The in between

In my hands, remain.

The choice is with me

All the moments of

Each and every day–

I can use my hands to hold or simply fade away.

***

This poem was inspired by the artwork/graphic I came up with, which then lead to the title. The first poem I wrote for it did not match though, and I went with something else entirely. But for some reason, I just kept coming back to this title and image over and over again. A few days of stewing, and I was finally ready to give it some concerted effort. The words just flowed then into this lovely little thing.

I hope you enjoyed this piece as much as I loved writing it :)