letting go, moments, nature, poetry

hands

hands by Carmen H Gray

the ice was crisp and forming

on the leaves of my plants

i had tended

i knew each leaf, each flower

i could almost feel their cells,

filling with tiny shards of ice

cutting them open and destroying plant tissue

which made me grieve their deaths

but it wasn’t until i saw that man

on the side of the road

whose delicate cells were simultaneously dying

that my heart leapt outside of my chest

on this icy day

in this tale of two cities

brimming with the new Elon Musks

and the homeless, what a juxtaposition

the last part of his body i noticed

were his hands

which could have belonged to any one of us, really

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