Poem by Veronica Valadez
MY HANDS
From my hands that embrace you, the serene movements arise, like lovers who without sleep go towards being eternal.
Hands that draw wings, hands of a caged goddess, unleashed springs, hands of unusual whiteness.
Doves are with brushes that project the wants, and outline poppies with their strokes that in their charm leave lights on.
My butterfly hands, dressing their water in colors, melt with love and chain with forgetfulness.
Hands that twitch with cold, hands that are bracelets of the soul, with laughter or calm, enchant the senses.
Pure and sweetened hands discover me at dawn and let me be reborn …
