Our hands in a circle, life symbols…… both perfect and profound.
The women of our family, young and old in love are bound.
The women of our family, young and old in love are bound.
We are born into our circle---sweet, delicate dimpled hands.
Loved and held by the generations, the miracle of life we understand.
As we move throughout our lives, our hands speak our heart.
Touching, loving, comforting. All God’s work of art.
Touching, loving, comforting. All God’s work of art.
Our hands entwine for games & prayers. They clap with joy and pride.
They tremble with anger and sorrow, soothe broken hearts and babies cries.
They tremble with anger and sorrow, soothe broken hearts and babies cries.
Our hands shape, guide and teach, nourish, support and share.
At times swift, deft, and purposeful at times imperfect and impaired.
At times swift, deft, and purposeful at times imperfect and impaired.
We are called home from our circle, a life story engraved on our hands.
Loved and held by the generations, the beauty of life we understand.
Together we share our journeys, the generations both now and then.
The women of our family are a circle of love that never ends.
The women of our family are a circle of love that never ends.
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