Tuesday, February 10, 2009

Grandmother's hands

I want to feel grandmother's hands
yet again, holding me in infancy
Hands that parted and plaited my hair into three
Three reminiscent of "I Love Yous"
That came undone every weekend
only to be done again
Those hands that gave fufu to an unwilling child
while promises of untold strength
entered my mouth.
The hands that were quick to discipline
a child who had picked off the
unriped tomatoes in her garden
Hands that later soothed and cajoled a child's worried soul
I want to feel grandmother's hands
Hands that seemed to clap the loudest in church
this child's first sound of salvation
The Hands of a rainmaker
whose rain poured into the garden of
my heart and filled it with joy
I want to feel the hands that cooconed me at night from
the unknown darkness
The hands that peeled ukwa all day long.
Hands of hardwork, of character, of motherhood
Hands that held the secret of the world with in each
line of her palms.
These hands nurtured my mother
How I long for grandmother's hands around me yet again.
To feel safe, to feel welcome, to feel what it means
to return home
Oh to be drawn into these hands
To be held in the arms of an aged wonder.

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