Reading the Bones

Poetry
Marchell Dyon


Photo Credit: Chocorayto/Flickr (CC-by-nc-nd)

She said open your hands
When you did
Her black hands held your dark palms

She began to trace the lines
Every stitch of DNA in your hands
She tells you to flexed your fingers

She tells you,
To hold your fingers straight like a ruler
You watch as she reads the bones

She tells you more than a gypsy’s fortune can
That these are not lines in your hands
It’s your life tree

Branches connecting you to your history
The lives lived before your time
This is your life tree

She said branching out into your existence
Through this life and into the stars of the next
These are your life lines

Roads bending and cross with few dead ends
She considers your hand like a pool of water
A watery veil of knowledge raining down from heaven

“Look!” she assures you, “your lines are long
Your gray hairs will be many
Before your soul spirits away from this world.”

You look to your hands, your eyes all glassy
dancing with wonder, dreaming out loud,
envisioning for one long moment that maybe she is right.

pencil

Marchell Dyon is a disabled poet. She believes her disability has inspired her creative spark. Her poetry has been published in Toasted Cheese Literary Journal, Full of Crow Poetry Magazine, and Rainbow Rose Ezine, Blue Lake Review, A Little Poetry, Medusa’s Kitchen, The Stray Branch, Strange Horizons, Mused Bella Online, Convergence Literary Journal, Silver Blade Magazine and Torrid Literature Journal. She is from Chicago, IL. Email: marchelldyon[at]yahoo.com

 

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