Third prize

Hands That Once Held Me

by Aaliyah O’Neil

She once tied bows in tangled hair, 
Wiped muddy knees with motherly care. 
Her hands were maps I used to trust, 
Soft anchors shaped by love and dust. 
She cooked with warmth, not just with skill, 
And sang through silence, fierce and still. 
She knew when storms were close to me, 
Before I spoke, she'd set me free. 
She stitched the seams of broken days, 
And taught me kindness, not just praise. 
She held the house, the world, my hand, 
The kind of strength we misunderstand. 
She sat through school plays, rain and shine, 
Cheered loudest at the finish line. 
Gave up her dreams so I could grow, 
Said little, but she made it so. 
But seasons shift with quiet stealth, 
And time comes creeping after health. 
Now I rise first, prepare her tea, 
Arrange the pills where eyes can see. 
I guide her steps, remind her name, 
And never speak the word “the same.” 
I brush her hair she used to braid, 
And soften light when colours fade. 
I track the bills, the forms, the care, 
And learn to soothe what isn't there. 
I wash the clothes she once hung proud, 
And hush the noises now too loud. 
She asks again what day it is, 
And I respond with patient bliss. 
I button coats she used to zip, 
Guide trembling hands to glass and sip. 
I hold her when her body aches, 
I cry in quiet coffee breaks. 
But still she smiles that knowing smile, 
The one that held me all the while. 
Some call it duty, call it strain, 
But caring isn’t dressed in pain. 
It’s stitched through years of selfless thread, 
In all she gave, in words unsaid. 
It’s in the small, repeated things, 
The tea, the socks, the songs one sings. 
It’s family in its truest form, 
To shelter love, to keep it warm. 
And though her voice may now be thin, 
Her strength still echoes from within. 
For once, she carried all of me, 
Now I return the legacy.