Your Hands Poem

Your Hands Poem By Marjorie Agosín

In your hands
I fuse wheat
and the sky’s edge.
Look at them, they thin out
before my hands
and blindly break the darkness of the dawn.
Love comes to a house ablaze
and celebrated by the spirits of winter.
In your hands,
I find refuges and mills
in them, the birds make their nests
of imaginary migrations.
In your hands
the first threads of rain
the fragrance of grass
after the daring
nights of love.
I paint in the peace of all the
and you at my side like the
sound of that which returns.

Your Hands Poem

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