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Arms.

Arms. Arms that held me. Arms that welcomed me into the realm of womankind Hands that held mine with the intent of "for all time." Hands that were oftentimes the guiding light. In these arms I was reborn. In these arms I was taken Arms that made decisions Made choices not my own These hands shaped me Shaped me into a stranger. The debt of joy and grief owed To these hands and these arms Has left an indelible mark These hands and these arms Hold a place that is mine Irrevocably mine. Whether I choose it Or not.
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Written by
daria-chrysanthus
American
Published
Oct 27, 2011
Lines·Words
27·99
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