Palms

A little poem I wrote almost a year ago. I've always had poetic tendencies since forever. I was the girl with the thick glasses and braids, going to the library to borrow The Oxford Collection of Poems and limericks. Not suprisingly, I was always the last to be chosen for the school sports team.
I wrote this after noticing how transparent my hands were when I held them up against a strong ray of sunlight. It got me thinking about connections people make between light as revelation and hands as a sign of salvation, forgiveness, generosity. So this is what I managed to come up with. I've since chucked out those old glasses, but I haven't changed one bit. There's just something so intangible yet irresistable about libraries and staring at my hands for an hour... lol



When the light is strongest,
You can see capillaries of blood.
Movements you never imagined to see so clearly,
Light pushing between your fingers.
You have only a matter of seconds to touch it;
To feed on what revelation it may offer you.
The most delicate part of your wrist
Turns itself to catch the sun's descent.