Our hands come from our mothers and grandmothers.
Whether worn or soft,
They speak of the lives they were granted and the rights that they fought for.
The creases in our skin tell stories in fading lines,
Hands reaching out in offering,
Pulling closer to hold, protect.
And as we walk in our lives,
Our backs, shoulders, are warmed by gentle, sturdy guiding hands.
Alive or dead, we are propelled further into this continuation of life lived.
If you listen closely, you might hear the hums and tongue clickings of guidance guiding.
Taking our places, dignified and noble,
Carving the continued path for the dead and soon to be born.
Featured art by vision lab