The Weight of Ordinary Hands
No one tells you
that love survives
inside the smallest rehearsals—
passing the salt,
folding another person's grief
into your own pockets.
We spend our years
waiting for magnificent declarations,
while devotion quietly
ties loose laces,
waits through hospital corridors,
remembers the forgotten birthdays of pain.
If forever exists,
it is probably this:
two weathered hands
still reaching across the table
after language has grown old.
👁 12💬 1
Something wrong with this poem?
Replies are closed for this poem.
Your Poem's Voice
See what makes your poem unique — its voice, energy, themes, and the literary traditions it draws from.
Comments (1)
Log in to leave a comment.