Your Hands, Your History

How I took for granted, thee! Now, reaching an age, I began to ponder. Their truly outstanding history. Hands that once with grand wonderment stared at crayon colors. Tanned, dimpled hands of a girl Who on beaches made sand castles! Whilst the waters of Lake Michigan swirled. And above her pigtailed head, Clouds moved in tender dance, all shades of pastels. In her tutu at the mirror she stared Her hands loved that Ballef barre Mother has her costumes by a seamstress made, because she cared! The mini Swan Lake-star,looked in her Mother's tear-filled eyes and with thankfulness, stared. In elbowed satin gloves at age sixteen, she bowed gracefully. She gave that hand to her proud father to rise. A very proud parent of his proud paternity. The same hands in schools, years later covered with chalk. She made a professional decision to teach in the ghetto schools of Chicago and walk her talk. Not just to say that a "few friends of mine are black." But to contribute to black children getting the best education, of that there was certainly,a lack! These same hands who pen this, poem,not only went to the theater. But became an improvisational actress, a stand up comic who held a silvered- microphone later. And later,with a beauteous daughter, by God was she so blessed. She still remembers the smell of that angelic hair,as Maria,breathed ever so softly on her chest. Now, look at your hands, that have their own unique history. God given appendages,,so strong, so rich with your life's mysteries and histories! 12/30/2020 2:45am PST