Hands Of Dreams

A Poem by Leesah

funny how my fingers slightly bend and extend,

but not all the way...

I have these hands which tell me stories

stories I had forgotten

but they are sure to remind me

with each glance at them

of a time when they held firmly onto life

onto the moments when the grasping

was never a struggle...

they try to reach out to younger,

smooth graced hands in the dreams of night

chasing and asking to bring back

its vitality, its limber and fluid joints

untainted and free..

they grip the moons stay

so night will last in a forever dream with

palms open wide lifting toward the waking morn

they wince in the deformity of light

and distorting pain

but mostly they wince from the remembrance

of dreams

once lived before....