These Hands: poetry by kim (2nd go-around for post)

These hands have been in motion from the moment I was conceived.

These hands were the cilia that helped me figure out my world as a small child.

These hands, though asian are no different than my white sisters, my black brothers, my indian friends.

The phalanges that extend from the wrists of this being have learned to color with crayons, write with a pencil, do cursive in permanent ink.

They have held my body in midair as I learned to do cartwheels.

They have gracefully interpreted the emotions of a classical ballet piece.

They have gripped a tennis racquet, with sweat in between the leather and my epidermis, while running around on a court in hundred degree weather.

These hands have had my fingers jammed from 'setting' the volley ball for my fellow players.

These hands have created many a artistic projects for my family and friends on special and non-special occasions.

These long, somewhat slender fingers have dreamed of being a concert pianist while playing the ever challenging musical piece 'chop sticks'.

My hands have held the very hands of my husband from day one to the present, every day.

My hands are the tools in which I have learned many skills that employed me, have given me joy, have gotten me in trouble, have covered my mouth in a frozen surprise, have waved hello and goodbye to many loved ones through the years.

These hands with many miles on them are still young in years, and yet with so much life in them still, that I need not be surprised by what they will do for me next.

These hands have so desired, along with my heart, to embrace a lost child, an orphaned child, a sickly child, my own child,

So as the years have come and gone, these hands, my hands have allowed me to comfort the hurting, celebrate with a loved one, hugged a homeless person, clapped at a child's accomplishment or silliness, caressed the face of a newborn baby, and spoken another language through signing.

These hands, my hands have given little, have taken much and seek more ways to be used in the life of others.

These hands that have been so carefully and wonderfully made perfect, as well asfunctional, await for the abundance of new work, more sorrow, always ready to get dirty, waiting for a future of continued purpose.

Thank you, god, for these hands...