I stare at my hand
When has it gotten so worn out?
When did it start looking so unrecognizable?
When did these deepened and countless lines, inscribed in my palm, leave its mark?
When?
When was it when I first uncurled my hands to the world?
To lick the sweetness off them
Or the salty tears used to wipe them off?
When was it when I first took hold of a bus rail?
To wave hello and goodbye to a friend
Or receive something with a “please” and a “thank you”?
When was it when I first wet them into the ocean deep?
To run my hands through the softest silk
Or cut them from the sharpest blade?
When was it when I first shook hands with the Boss?
To offer it to a person in need
Or hold it with a lover?
When was it when I first received the wedding ring?
To burn them from trying to cook for my family
Or dirtied them trying to clean up after them?
When was it when I closed them in prayer?
To high five someone with a satisfying slap
Or tenderly hold their face in my hands?
When has it made so many memories?
When has it become such a big part of me?
When has it gotten so beautiful?
When?