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Daria Chrysanthus
Poems
Oct 2011
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.
Written by
Daria Chrysanthus
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