Her Hand

Her hand, so slim and delicate,
Brushes back her stray red hairs,
Tenderly caressing her ear. 

Her hand, small and porcelain-like,
Smashes, crushes the sopophorous bean
Laughing at the world. 

Her hand, strong and courageous,
Moves, dances the wand through the air
A guardian for life. 

Her hand, lovely and white,
Bearing a golden band
Circled for eternity, a wife. 

Her hand, sleek and soft,
Resting on his shoulder
Hugging him close,
Her hand, so masterful,
A quill skims the parchment page
Declaring her love. 

Her hand, so motherly,
Tickling the baby
And rough housing, though all by fair means,
Her hand, tender and graceful,
Pushed back his untidy hair
Smiling all the time. 

Her hand, a cushion retreat,
As her baby lays down
His sweet, sleepy head,
Her hand, gentle and kind,
Smoothing the babe's cheek
Singing softly in his ear. 

Her hand, comfortable and poised,
Promising that safety, serenity
Is so near. 

Her hand, so automatic,
Scoops him off the floor
Storms up the creaking stairs...

Her hand, clenched, deathly pale,
Grips him close
Screaming all the while...

Her hand, now aging fast,
Pats his head
Crying for it to last,
Her hand, brittle, shaking,
Shoves him into bed
Whips around to face what lies ahead. 

Her hand, still so brave,
Clutches the crib's edge
To save all that is dear,
Her hand, defiant at all costs,
Pleads with its last breath
But mercy is denied here...

Her hand, cold, limp,
Laying across her chest
Burdened no more,
Her hand, no longer held out,
Yet still lingers
With the promise of protection. 

His hand, young and small,
Briefly touches the mirrored glass
Longing and desire in its grooves,
His hand, so childlike,
Wipes away innocent fresh tears
Leaking from green eyes shared. 
His hand, courageous as his mother's,
Does not want to say goodbye
Wishes to extend his stay forever. 

Their hands, similar in nature,
Touch so briefly for the last time
Fogging the glass again,
Their hands, hollow, remorseful,
Slide down and part
Green eyes mirroring green somberly. 
Their hands, taut with despair,
Continue reaching for the other
Her boy wakes from her screams, beyond repair. 

His hands, keep growing,
Sturdier and stronger over time
To finish her work, revere her sacrifice,
His hand, so like hers,
Stays at his side
As he mirrors her action with his own departure from life. 

His hand, still aches,
Yet brushes back his hair
To reveal the lightning scar,
His hand, a hero in its right,
Lingers a moment more
No longer does pain and heartache storm. 

His hand, emulates her still,
Yet closure can be felt
For the one who gave her life,
Now the debt paid back in full
By her son's familiar hand...

And they will, one day, clasp each other again.