I haven't felt my mother's hands for almost 18 years, but here is what I remember...
perfectly manicured...
bony, but tender...
clean, & hard-working...
always reaching to give love...
putting on John Denver & Beach boys records...
grabbing our little hands, gently, firmly,
to dance, to comfort, to keep from falling...
they were mother's hands.
I can't remember for the life of me what they look like in my mind,
and my skin doesn't remember how they feel.
But my memories do.
RIP mama - Aug 25th 2002
Happy (now, belated) Mother's Day to all the beautiful, caring moms out there.
About the Creator
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Universal Order
Stay in my arms, keep me warm, take me away to an island of cottage houses that live in heaven. If I could reside in a rose, sleep on a candle, eat grapes from the moon and have a bubble bath as my bed then joy would wake my soul every morning from the mountain. Gazing into the ethera from flesh to alternate realities; my soulmate is seen picking flowers, singing with the greenery, flipping pages lost in a book, barefoot soaking in a riverbed. While my wild hearted kids spur in a child’s world dispersed in the wilderness of Mother Earth’s fortress. An immeasurable treasure filled of pain and pleasure such is the adventure of life. An experience that unfolds you to your core, shedding layers to your purpose and the one course to take is… suffering. A blessing or curse? Advantage or disadvantage? Suppose you could say it differs between individuals. For he who has been wounded and healed learns to stitch others. And it’s when death ground swallows you that you’re made to dig into the trenches of your neglected parts. It is then when meaning is uncovered and you fall into the universe but realise it was just the doorstep of your soul. Preordained by the structurelessness of time’s myth every piece will fill when it’s destined in the open passage universal order. The heart’s deepest desires will blossom when the season is right.
By Haytham Trueheart5 days ago in Poets
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