At times
I look at
These small hands
Delicate and pale
With such an instinct
To hold something

Other times
I'm reminded of
My soft heart
When I reach
Towards someone
The scars screech
Still feeling the blade
In my back
From a lost love

Some times
I'm surprised
By my hair
Its magnificent magnitude
Its daring defiance
The presence it has
Within a room

This mane has a voice
It speaks of my
Strength and resilience
When my hands are small
When my heart is soft
When I forget.

l.v.s