DRAMATIC MONOLOGUE Poem: MY FATHER’S HANDS, by Mimi Ayers

He’s done about everything with his hands:
Pick cotton one year, tobacco the next
Load ammunition in one war, clench fists in another
Wash dishes
flip burgers
Cobble shoes with sturdy soles for those fine leather uppers
Sort mail
Carry his first-born baby girl to his mother’s arms
Repair watches, dentures too –
DIY penny pincher
Move hot steel with a 5-lever, 7-ton crane
Install parts, motors, transmissions
Fix a flat, anything to get a car rolling again.

Tools
like
Toys

Weld, dig, cut
Saw the wood
Mortar the bricks
Pour the cement
Size and fit
Pound those nails
Plaster those walls
Paint inside, paint outside
Any kind of plumbing, and wiring –
A house well built.

So much he could do with his hands,
But he never held mine.

After note:
When I read this poem to my father, his only comment was “But I held you in my arms.”