{"id":108,"date":"2014-07-18T21:44:43","date_gmt":"2014-07-18T21:44:43","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/nancileewoody.com\/?page_id=108"},"modified":"2020-08-03T18:49:34","modified_gmt":"2020-08-03T18:49:34","slug":"hands","status":"publish","type":"page","link":"https:\/\/nancileewoody.com\/?page_id=108","title":{"rendered":"These Hands"},"content":{"rendered":"<p>These hands, they frighten me.<br \/>\nThe veins, bulging, snaking from wrist to fingers, signal the end.<br \/>\nThese worn out mother\u2019s hands once clenched in pain<br \/>\nas my onlyborn<br \/>\nstruggled to be free.<br \/>\nThese hands severed cord.<br \/>\nThese hands put baby to breast.<\/p>\n<p>These hands, they frighten me.<br \/>\nSkin transparent, dry.<br \/>\nThese mother\u2019s hands held countless books,<br \/>\nchild on lap.<br \/>\nThese hands, once creative<br \/>\ndrew birds and flowers<br \/>\ndanced over keyboards for child\u2019s entertainment.<\/p>\n<p>These hands, they frighten me.<br \/>\nWrinkles where smooth used to be.<br \/>\nThese impatient mother\u2019s hands that ripped switch from tree.<br \/>\nSnapped it on child\u2019s bare legs.<\/p>\n<p>These hands, they frighten me.<br \/>\nKnots at the knuckles tell truth.<br \/>\nThese mother\u2019s hands carried child into cold light of emergency room.<br \/>\nThese hands lay on heaving chest<br \/>\nrested on forehead, calmed.<\/p>\n<p>These hands, they frighten me.<br \/>\nThese mother\u2019s hands that leapt to eyes<br \/>\npulled at hair<br \/>\nput fist in mouth to hold back sob.<br \/>\nThese hands that didn\u2019t stop abuse.<br \/>\nDidn\u2019t grab it by the throat and squeeze.<br \/>\nThese hands that hung helpless by my side.<\/p>\n<p>These hands, they frighten me.<br \/>\nAge spots scream no more chances.<br \/>\nHands slap at suffocating air.<\/p>\n<p><i id=\"yui_3_16_0_1_1406153542527_51846\" style=\"color: #000000;\">by nanci lee woody<\/i><\/p>\n<p>(First Place, Voices of Lincoln Poetry Contest)<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"<p>These hands, they frighten me. The veins, bulging, snaking from wrist to fingers, signal the end. These worn out mother\u2019s hands once clenched in pain as my onlyborn struggled to be free. These hands severed cord. These hands put baby to breast. These hands, they frighten me. Skin transparent, dry. These mother\u2019s hands held countless [&hellip;]<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":1,"featured_media":0,"parent":0,"menu_order":12,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","template":"","meta":{"footnotes":""},"class_list":["post-108","page","type-page","status-publish","hentry"],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/nancileewoody.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/pages\/108","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/nancileewoody.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/pages"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/nancileewoody.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/types\/page"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/nancileewoody.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/users\/1"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/nancileewoody.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcomments&post=108"}],"version-history":[{"count":5,"href":"https:\/\/nancileewoody.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/pages\/108\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":681,"href":"https:\/\/nancileewoody.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/pages\/108\/revisions\/681"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/nancileewoody.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fmedia&parent=108"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}