The Power of Hands I once used to believe in the beauty of hands Their softness, their wonder and sheer elegance So graceful and lovely a tool to express Thoughts and emotions by touch or caress. But sadly this became an illusion I held For deep in my heart I knew it so well The passion, the fervour I once used to know At the touch of the hands in love's afterglow - Soothing and calming they somehow became A tool of great anger and the finger of blame Carrying a passion of a different kind Now used as a weapon to keep me in line. Yes, those hands that had once caressed me in love Became the same hands that punched, hit and shoved And now hands I believe have the power to be An expression of love or painful cruelty. ~ Angel Reflections ~ Mother's Cradle From my birth I was cradled Within my mother's hands There I found security, peace, and warmth She held me to her breast, each hour on the hour Sometimes tired and weak from endless attention, Yet she held me gently in her hands I was but one pound when I was born, The doctors spoke unto my mother, Let him go, he is too weak, you shall have another! Yet through my mother's determination, and something deep inside her very soul, She held me to her breast again, for hours ever untold. Tears had fallen many times from my mother's eyes, That the doctor should have said to her, That I she should deny. Yet the voice within helped her stay, strong of mind and spirit, She gave to me a mighty name that resounded loudly, can you hear it? My mother's hands were worn with age, as time kept flowing by, Yet they always had strength to lift me up, whenever I should cry. Wrinkles, lines, various shades, of colors covered the flesh upon her hands, yet with each approaching year she still stretched out her hands to me. Slowly now as mother has aged, with dignity and pride, she moves about strong of spirit, with unending courage inside. The hands that cradled me at my birth, have been silenced for all time. My mother now is in Creator's hands, for all the world to see. Whenever I feel lonely, or need a helping hand, I just call upon my mother, and her strength to me she'll send. ~ Angel Pascha ~ These Old Scarred Wrinkled Hands of Mine These old scarred wrinkled hands of mine Have wiped away the many tears I’ve cried because of moments of Joys, sadness and pains through the years I have extended friendships with These old scarred wrinkled hands of mine Tended them with love and with care Nurtured them through the tests of time I have tended many children Lifted them up when they were down; These old scarred wrinkled hands of mine Gave them true love to spread around. I’ve touched the face of my true love He felt my passion every time And he adored every touch of These old scarred wrinkled hands of mine ~ Angel of Sweet Blessings ~ Hands I looked at my hands the other day And was not surprised to see, That they are growing older Along with the rest of me. They have served me well And it made me ponder. About things my hands have done, I sit and reflect with wonder. They have held the reins of a feisty horse As I felt the wind in my hair, Stroked my Grandfather's forehead As he sat and wept in his chair. Pulled weeds from my garden And pruned the roses fair. Held the handles of a bicycle, Knitted a jumper for a child to wear. Cut out a wedding dress and veil to wear, Made cakes and meals galore. Held other hands to show I care. And there is so much more. Tenderly held my babies And touched their tender skin. Wiped their tears and noses And used many a nappy pin. Signed cheques and counted money, Written letters by the score. And when friends have been in trouble They have knocked upon their door. And oh the hours they have spent On typewriter and keyboard. Busy clicking away the hours And finding my reward They have held the steering wheel And changed the gears, Driving has given such pleasure Over all the years. Over years they have dialled and held A telephone - door to the world. They have brushed my daughters’ hair Plaited, braided and curled. They have washed and ironed And sewn many a dress. Made many a story tale costume, Cleaned up many a mess. Finger plays and glove puppets, And games that children play, Made doll clothes and sewn bears, Cat’s Cradle at end of day. They have taken little hands in theirs And kept them safe indeed Walked across the busy roads And met most every need. Other hands have sought them To hold them tenderly And these are the times That stir my memory. Stir me to think with gratitude That older these hand may be ~ They have brought special joys To others and to me. So as I look at my hands I like them fine~ They are practical and very caring. And I am glad for the deeds they’ve done The touching, the giving the sharing. ~ Angel of Avalon ~ All graphics are copyright Wings of Love and Light and may not be used without written permission. You may contact the webmistress at Angel of the Forest Main image courtesy of Jeffrey Bedrick