I hope that
When mummy first held me
It was with
Coffee berry scented hands
It was with
Hands aching in the palm
It was with
Hands with pain in the wrist
Hands with difficulties
In performing day-to-day tasks
Hands with numbness
Whose owner
Was in high fever
The hands
Were covered with tattered clothes
Sprinkled with coffee juice
The hands were tired
Due to repetitive work in the farm
Those hands
Were of a coffee picker
They seemed to be weak
But were strongest of all
Having been rained on
And hit by the merciless
Scorching sun rays
She held me
Owned me
Called me “dad”
For those hands
Am going to buy
A bracelet
A splint
A ring
My obedience
Is going to be
Their pain reliever.

Author: sander_ochy

I am a journalist, a poet, a spoken word artist, a writer, and performer. Life is all I write about. #Freeverse254

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