My Mother's Hands

A Mother’s Hands

Your gentle hands held me from my very first breath.

They guided me for my little first step.

Your hands held me close when I couldn’t handle it all.

They wiped every tear when they began to fall.


Your gentle hands got me dressed and straightened my cheer bow

They consoled me when all my hurt did not show.

Your hands showed me how to reach for the stars and moon.

They always reassured me whatever it was would be over soon.


Your gentle hands pushed me but never into harm’s way.

They never wagged along to “just do what I say”.

Your hands had much discipline to mold me into all that I could be.

They protected and let go when it was time for me to be free.


Your gentle hands are calloused and cracking from work

They still manage to take away my hurt.

Your hands are more beautiful than anything can be.

They are the reason that I am me.

This poem is about: 
My family


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