Your Hands Poem by Elizabeth Miller

Your Hands

Rating: 5.0


Your hands, so skilful then,
Could tie a bow in a heartbeat
Cut the toughest carrots
Hold buttercups beneath my chin
Swing me above the waves,
Brush gold leaf upon a frame
Write fine italics
Prune the wild, rambling rose
Conjure up a landscape,
Use a camera with ease
Sew the finest, neatest hem
Squeeze icing on a birthday cake
Splash whitewash on the walls,

Now, even your hands are weak.
So fragile,
I cradle them gently like baby birds,
Willing you to wake.

Wednesday, March 1, 2023
Topic(s) of this poem: mother daughter,dying,communication,old age,connection,memories
POET'S NOTES ABOUT THE POEM
'Your Hands' is one of the poems in my first published collection, 'Penumbra - Poems About Dementia', available through Amazon and elsewhere.I wrote this poem while visiting my mother in her care home. By this time, she had advanced dementia and often slept through my visits. As communication became more difficult, I reflected on the connections between us, cherishing the memories.
COMMENTS OF THE POEM
Bharati Nayak 02 March 2023

I can well relate to your poem.This poem reminds me of my father when he was lying bedridden, unable to move his right hand and legs.It is pathetic to see a dear one who was your support and strength going weak and fragile.

1 0 Reply
Elizabeth Miller 02 March 2023

Thank you, Bharati. I am sorry to hear this about your father.

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Nosheen Irfan 02 March 2023

Beautifully penned. Deepest emotions poured into these exquisitely crafted lines.

1 0 Reply
Elizabeth Miller 02 March 2023

Thank you, Nosheen. I am pleased you appreciate my poem.

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