"Hands Turned Memories" A Poem
- from Lana Christman
- |
- Stroudsburg Area High School
- |
- 1204 views
I'm Lana Christman. I wrote this poem for the most basic objects in our lives and how many memories they hold. I attached my own memories in greatest to my hands. One specific memory I have from childhood is a flash image of me looking down at my hands. I remember how normal they looked to me, but how small they seemed compared to everything else around me. The memories of my hands grew as time grew, and now I have a million words to describe them.
__
Tips beamed through Portals
Of magic baked forests,
And silver toned rivers
Shone through their moons
Where crows sneaked
Along the crust ridden shadows.
The valleys of my hands
Have known abstract seasons
With layers as new
As sunset signed bread.
That knew secrets
As soft as sunlight butter swaying,
silently on the sand
Ideas fly through wavelengths
Like plastic bags in autumne,
Silhouetting past lives,
With hands telling photos
And visions past mind’s eye