it used to be
that music or words or the wail of the wind
would speak to me
to the part of me who loved rhyme
and loved to spin a web of words
a story a tale a love poem
would nudge my mind
and push and grow
unwinding until there was no option
but to write
today she said
“it is in your hands”
“stop giving your power away”
and I listened and I heard
and the voice of words
which lives in my head
shuddered and shook and spoke
I believed my silence was permanent
my outpourings ended but no
I still have words to share
my hands crooked now
fingers bent like trees warped by wind
skin wrinkled and marked with age
but mine still mine
in my hands under my hands
hold my hand and walk with me
learn these hands map their lines
these hands have fed me washed me
caressed the ones I love
they have lived my life
they will cherish and protect
and they will write another chapter
eryll oellermann
31.01,2024
