My Grandmother's HandsMy grandmother’s hands have massaged tired limbs and weary heartsthey have cleaned homes,swept floors, toiled grass roots in cemented landslaid bricks and mortarthat paved the road to freedom.My grandmother’s handshave coddled bodega lotto dreamslike her new born childthey are lamb’s wool on the naked skinof future generations.My grandmother’s handshave clasped arctic tenement floorsshielding 5 finger back slapsthat burned souls like hot coalspink-grey cinders of ashmarked with years of resentmentfor the lives they couldn’t save.My grandmother’s hands have molded boys into menwith strength like old family traditionsoverflowing with unfulfilled promisesthat time has carried awayand all that is left are the years of struggle permanently engraved on the palms ofmy grandmother’s hands.Writing Prompt: Write a piece about the following theme “My Grandmother’s Hands”
nancy arroyo ruffin 