Mine are the hands

Mine are the hands. For Juanita

For Juanita, Elsa’s grandmother. Back story from my Instagram account: Juanita is an indigenous Raramuri woman from Cerocahui, a small town at the base of the Urique Canyon in the Copper Canyon. Her granddaughter invited us to their home unannounced, and despite being surprised, Jaunita made us freshly ground thick corn tortillas on the wood-fire stove in their one-bedroomed home. Served with tiny homegrown potatoes and salt, they were delicious! We’ll never forget the hospitality of the people we met in the Copper Canyon.

Mine are the hands
that feed this village,
clothe this valley,
cleanse these rivers,
coax your stubborn children,
ease the aches,
of broken hearts,
spirits
dreams
girls who defy duty,
tears wet on hand-me-down pillows.

Mine are the hands
cracked by the sun,
pummeled by the streams,
hardened by the soil
stretched by love.
Mine are the hands
that carry this family,
envelop their souls,
protect the girls,
with dreams wider,
far wider
than my own,
than theirs,
than his.
Mine are the hands. *Taken in Cerocahui village*