Per Sempre nel Mio Cuore

“Old Hands” by Nelede Saeger

(Forever in My Heart)

my mother’s two hands
their name was Aida
for ninety-three years
till they died within mine

Neapolitan amber
kissed by the warmth
of ancestral gold suns
took on in their time
a tawny translucence
too-prominent veined

their rosaried
pianist fingers
misshapen
arthritic
two nicotined pads
in one comfortable
cigarette cleft

their butcher-strong grip
ably tended her
bed-ridden
twice-her-size husband
for sixty-three years
not to mention
their nursing
of parents and siblings
while raising three
boisterous
urbanized children

they made magic
of wooden-spooned sauces
and rolling-pinned pasta
some seventy-thousand
made-from-scratch meals
her affectionate gifts
from the recipes
cherished as prayers
in her heart

they used hair-nested
ear-rested pencils
to cipher their sales
to grocery customers
drawn upon
brown paper bags
so much faster and neater
than any old new-fangled
black and bronze
adding machine

they were peasant hands
born to bear
uncomplained pain
so toughened by toil
roughened by rustic
impatience
to get the job
any job
every job
done

yet tender as tulips
when drawn across
trouble-knit brows
of illness or grief
when stroking teared cheeks
of sadness or woe
I loved those two hands
even more than I know
how with every touch
they so dearly loved me

(originally posted April 2013)