Hi Wonderful readers,
I don’t usually do writing exercises or memes, because I never think I have much to say. How do you write about the ebb and flow of a day with tears and poop and defiance? But someone recently asked me something that kind of rattled me and made me stop. She said, “what moves you?” Sadly, it took me a while to answer. My brain is full of grot and dust. But if you have time and a mind to share, I’d love to know what moves you. Thanks for being here, for reading in this space.
Moves Me Poem
skin like parchment
crackled
crossed with lines, almost
viciously
a reminder
of age or beauty, now
fading like ripples
on still water.
Those hands move me
long distances
twist me show me
a landscape of a life
snapshots
blazing technicolor
in scar and stain and callus.
What secrets have hands
like that known?
Could they spin me a story
a rhyme
a parable
leave me gasping
like all fine teachers can.
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