My Mother's Hands

I attended a Cliff Notes Writing Conference, including Nancy Takacs, poet, writing instructor, and artist. This is a result of that workshop - the subject was hands, and including certain words.

My Mother’s Hands

I open the door, closed for many years.

My right hand smells of dust.

A living room, 70 years ago…

My mother sitting by the fireplace, flowered housedress,

reading, waiting for my arrival…

Tattered paper covers the walls, silence greets me.

My hands were miniatures of her hands that did hard work,

raising five kids, and helping on the farm.

I remember coming home from school, and the smell of

hot cinnamon rolls, and the buttery taste on my lips.

Cotton dresses, pillow cases, brothers’ shirts, washed, dried in

the fresh air, sprinkled, I forgot starch for some.

Her hands rolling them into a ball.

Sitting on the floor, playing with my paper dolls, my Mother

attaching a handle to a hot flat-iron on the stove…

The women in our family are strong; if asked if she could do

something new, She would reply, "I will give it a try."

Same as I…

I returned home and stood in the same spot as my mother,

mirroring a picture of her, my Grandma and Aunt Martha.

I followed in my mother’s footsteps, climbed the stairs,

touching her handprints, and the brass bedroom door knob…

Gazing out the window, the gnarly tree, as my Mother before me.

 

 

 

 

 

Author's Note

Comments on formatting?

Reviews

[Tate Morgan]

These are the things that tie us to the ancestors going back through antiquity.To hold tight and make sure we know that we are the emissaries of all their hopes and dreams. It is in this way that we are granted immortality through our children .They the ones who take our thoughts and go forward with them In the full and certain knowledge that that they are a link in a chain of over 40,000 generations .Unbroken since the dawn of time

[Diane Lockard]

Today, even with all the technology available, some of our family histories are being lost. Your words express the necessity that we carry forward.... Diane

[Angi]

I don't worry about formatting. I read my works aloud to see how they flow. Do they trip up anywhere? This one does not trip. Rather, it flows like honey. I loved this piece. The women are truly the heart of families. Nicely done, Diane. Angi~

[Diane Lockard]

Angi, Thank you for your lovely thoughts, and I appreciate the feedback on the fomatting.
Diane

[Angi]

My pleasure

[Samuel Dickens]

I know almost nothing about formatting or all those things known to real, serious poets. I only know what I like, and I like this for its message and the way it makes me feel. There's no longer any place I could go and stand where mother stood or put my hands where hers once were, but if there was, I'd surely go there and try to be close to her, as you've done in this poem.

[Diane Lockard]

Thank you for your heart-felt sentiments, I am fortunate to be able to "return home."

[Diane Lockard]

It is nice to meet you. It is great that the poem brought back happy memories. I love historical and historical fiction writing. Thank you for the feedback, and I look forward to talking to you again.

[Sami Khalil]

A sweet write. Thank you for sharing...:)

[Diane Lockard]

I missed this somehow, in my travels, thank you for stopping by.

[Sami Khalil]

My pleasure...:)