These Hands

Today’s poem is inspired by the First Story writing workshop held by Cecilia Knapp. I am working with First Story to spread the message to get everybody writing each Wednesday and using the hashtag #WriteFromHome to share their work on Twitter and Instagram. To view the full video, see below and have a go!

These hands long for the hands of my grandmothers’
the reassurance of the steady stick in one and
these hands in the other, skipping home from school.
These hands wish to push the Tesco trolley around with her again
and tripping up anyone too close.
These hands want but cannot have the gentleness
of their wrinkled hands brushing my long hair again.
These hands held a white rose when I said goodbye
but now these hands wear her ring so she is always by my side.

Yet these hands have smiled and sprinkled petals down the aisle,
guarding her sisters from pinching more because they
ran out half-way down.
These hands have been painted with mehndi six times,
one each to celebrate my sisters’ marriage.
These hands have felt the soft silk of a sari,
wrapping me up like a quality street.
These hands have rolled hundreds of rotlis
and picked the dried up dough from under my nails.
These hands have been stained with turmeric and burned with oil
but these hands are strong and full of love,
grateful for the warm embrace of her family beside her.

– Henna