Work Text:
Take my hands, mother, take my hands
Feel the roughness there
Are these the hands of your youngest daughter?
Take my hands, father,
Do you see the polish on my nails?
The scars on my wrists?
Is it a girls' polish, and a girl's scars?
Take my hands, sister,
Take them, please.
Watch the way they tremble,
That I can no longer hold chopsticks,
Can no longer drink without spilling water.
Do your sister's hands tremble this way?
Take my hands, sweetheart
Worship them
Make them your shrine
Are these your best girl's hands?
Do you worship a goddess, or a—
Stop. Take my hands, Father John.
Take them.
I'll push them together, I'll hold them, I'll pray.
Take these hands— do they betray me?
Are these the hands of a woman of Christ?
Take my hands,
Take my hands, traitor
Take them the way you took my blood
Take them the way you took my body
Take them, take them the way you held me
The way you ran your own hands over my skin
Take them, traitor, take them
You'd know, wouldn't you?
Are these the hands of your little girl?
Take my hands, Priestess,
Take them, Mother of the Earth.
I know you deal in nature, watch them shake
Like the earth quakes
Wizen, like old leaves.
Are these the hands of the moon?
Take my hands, I'm begging you!
Take them
I loved you more than myself once, now
Take them!
Or are you too much a coward
To take the hands of not a woman,
But a man?
Take them!