Beautiful Hands


My hands
I look at them
and see ugly

They were never beautiful
Not even in my prime
large knuckled short fingers
With small sunken nails

When did I learn
What beautiful was
Who decided what was desirable
Delicate white hands
With perfectly painted nails
Those were never mine

But these hands
They have held babies
Fed dogs and cats
They have cooked and cleaned
Played music
They have written and played
They have held
Onto other hands

These hands
The only ones I’ve got
How carelessly
I’ve called them ugly
Yet they haven’t failed me
These beautiful hands

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3 thoughts on “Beautiful Hands

  1. Parmis,

    What a thoughtful and thought-provoking poem this is. Well done. I especially liked this part:

    “When did I learn
    What beautiful was
    Who decided what was desirable”

    I think about this issue often. I’m in the land of blond hair, straight white teeth, narrow hips and full bosoms. When did this phenotype become the definition of beauty? People will pay and do a lot to resemble this.

    I hope all is well with you and your family.:-)

    Alice

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