Her hands, though thin, betray a certain strength
Not readily apparent in her eyes
Or heart; that she would go to such a length
And smash a vessel filling up with lies
And leave -- her hands would show this, not her face.
Her ready, warm and unalarming smile
Might seem contented, even commonplace,
Belying pain that couldn't reconcile
A life that hoped to atrophy those hands,
Those eyes, that heart -- it was the hands that acted,
And held her voice to bitter countermands
And gathered up the lives that were impacted
And carried them to all they may discover.
And still have strength remaining, to recover.


Salon.com
Comments
Or heart. That said a lot about her eyes & heart. I feel the sadness in this.
tril, you zeroed in on the center of it all. Thanks as always, for stopping by to read.