Written by Vuslat Topal
As a baby,
I had small hands;
Like every other baby does.
As I grew older,
My hands grew larger, bigger, stronger.
I was able to carry more weight with them;
Hold heavy things like bowling balls and depression.
My hands also held other hands;
Sometimes the wrong ones,
But eventually my grip loosened,
And let go of the hands that were not meant to be caressed by mine.
My brother also had small hands when he was a baby;
Like every other baby does.
As he grew older,
His hands grew larger, bigger, stronger.
He was able to carry more weight with them;
Hold heavy things like electric guitars and anxiety attacks.
I remember when he was ten,
His hands held paint brushes and kite strings.
Soon after, he let go of both these things,
And waved goodbye to his childhood self.
When we were younger,
I would hold his small hands in mine,
And now he holds my small hands in his.
Our hands were meant to be held by each other.
Fingers intertwined.
And I know that my hands will never let go of his,
As his hands will never let go of mine.
“Small hands” is about me and my brother. It’s about us, as individuals, but also about us in relation to one another. I could not imagine a life without my brother and I’m so glad that we have each other to lean on. What inspired this poem was the theme, “scale.” I was taking a creative writing course a while back, and the theme for one of the weeks was “scale”. I wanted to explore this theme through hands, commenting on how our hands grow as we grow and sometimes they hold things that are heavy (both physically and metaphorically). – Vuslat
Illustrated by Sailorfabs