I slip through the sterile halls floors shiny with the flimsy motion sensor lights left on at night stuff my fists into the pockets of scrubs to hide the shaking to have them held, not holding, for once   these hands that peel at the…

My palms are too soft Too white. Eighteen years into life Yet they are like a newborn child’s, Devoid of any callouses No marks, no creases Save the life line and such. Haven’t I toiled? Am I a stranger to life’s pain? I know I…

Hands A complex system of phalanges, muscles and nerves Graceful, dexterous, strong Brittle, fragile, frozen Basted with invisible snowflakes These fingers have pinched flames But fall prey to frostbite I do not want this manicure.

Perfect magnolias Each petal precisely bloomed A satin ribbon trails The colour of golden cream Every inch you step Takes you a little bit further From me? to me? But I gave you legs Use them My hands will always be here To replace my…

My hands have… been the first to hold a newborn baby, prepared a meal, changed diapers, taught young hands how to write, put a puzzle together, crocheted a blanket, written countless words, cradled a sick child, planted flowers, shaved my father’s whiskery face, been the…

Holding hands with you Intimate despite the stares Fingers, intertwined