love / love story / Poetry / Uncategorized


When she was young

he took her careless hands

in a steady grasp

and ran full speed

through fields of wild, lush blooms

and the days fell clear and bright

When her hands became heavy

clasping years of toil

he soothed and folded them neatly

peeling off the tediousness of time

the scatter and spill of shared burdens

Now, her shaky hands

motion aimlessly

bereft of delicate peace

he reaches to hold

those once beautiful, reckless hands

of the one savage soul that burned for him

and to caress those lovely fingers

yes, still lovely now

in the twilight of life

in the absence of heartbeats


62 thoughts on “Hands

  1. Oh, this is heart-wrenching, beautifully so and even though I guessed where it was going I couldn’t help but let out out a little gasp at the final ‘in the absence of heartbeats’. Terrific writing, Lana.

  2. such strong imagery. emotional for me, as well. upon reading the last line i felt the loss of this person. the poem is lovely, perhaps the best i have seen from you, and that is a high compliment.

    i posted a poem “a learning tale” some time ago that focused on hands. they can be so evocative, can’t they?

    • Thank you, Debbie. It is sad, but also a testament to an amazing love for those who find that someone, a love that endures the ravages of time. It seems so rare now that people stay together for more than a few years.

  3. This was beautiful, Lana. BTW, when I clicked on your gravatar to bring me here, it brought me to the wordpress reader mainpage. I haven’t seen your posts in my reader, so I had to google you to find the URL. Not sure if it’s on my end?

  4. This was achingly beautiful which may be a description someone else has expressed, Lana. It has family, love and hands which really tell their stories as we age. Such a sad part of life, too. Saying goodbye.
    I liked Debby’s word “wistful,” which reflects my thought on aging. . . will I find someone to hold my hand through some years? So sweet!

  5. Most meaningful and soul-stirring; reminding one that the passage of time and its effects on our frail and temporal bodies does not have to negatively affect the immortality of true love. Well done!

  6. Pingback: Sunday Blog Share: Hands | Myths of the Mirror

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