Hands of my Mother”
by Janet Kim
The hands of my mother hold my entire world
As a child they were
a magical cement
withstanding the heaviest of burdens
Now that I am older I’ve come to see the signs
Of the calloused
hands and deteriorating spirit.
The same hands that stroked my face
And rubbed my stomach aches away
Under my burdens
And under my sins
Under my weight, and under my faults.
The way her eyes
And her lips curl
way her legs don’t reach the end of the couch
Reflect in, none other than, her own offspring
Yet I look down at my hands
Them untouched, uncalloused
Every nail intact
I look at hers, hardened and rough,
The selfless sacrifice
she gave for me.
I challenge myself, now,
dream to give
Just half of what my mother gave
To dream to love
Just a quarter of what my mother felt
And to remember
The hands of my mother.
By Janet Kim