Photograph by Elizabeth Flesh
These hands
brusque molds of barro
Too masculine for ruffled skirts and
Hair resting gardenias
Hands of heavy honey yearning to
gracefully dance amongst lilac feathers
Fingers of coarse tamarind shells
with perfect rounded tips of
glossy Rosa Mexicano
Veins like mountain ridges
adorning desert landscapes or
flowing rivers of blue agave syrup
robustly awkward amongst fragile
bougainvillea petals
These hands
too large for feminine lace
iron comales gently caressing and
delicately holding
lifting
These hands held Carmen as
she nourished from my breast,
stumbled through disappointments
and heartbreaks
These hands learned to release as
she transformed into a woman
These hands tended to Tita Carmen
dressed her wounds after operations,
massaged her arthritic body,
bathed her, fed her, and cuddled
her as her body conceded to her
lung cancer.
These hands have loved David
embraced his fears and disappointments
very close to my heart
nursed his injuries and wounds
supported his back as he
lay and stood
and prayed for him as he
fought for his life
These hands
are my hands
Photograph by Elizabeth Flesh
Alma de Colibrí 