Prints on the Sands of Time

A hand pressing on sand

We have all heard that when God did create:
On our palms, was inscribed our fate.

I do believe


We know of the ink on the palms of the writer
Felt the sweat shaking hands with the hard worker
Seen blood dripping from the fists of our soldiers
Heard about the mud and dirt, caked inside the farmers’

The mothers’ palm has tears wiped away from her child’s cheek
While the pain of which the fathers’ fingers would never speak
Stifled with a single finger – secrets have lived on the sister’s lips
With nothing but pride, the brother fights his imaginary ships

The rubber glove’s stench is all that is left on a seasoned surgeon
The baker has the feel of flour that comes from his apron
The barber owns the soap meant for the one who walks clean-shaven
The teacher brushes off the chalk as she walks away from her haven

The mechanic possesses the slick of the oil which does stain
The chemicals in the film are the photographer’s frame
Salt-water is held long after the fishers return from their domain;
And the feel of a loved one, always in memory will remain.

I could go on and on about what we love leaving its mark
that is part of our life – our very own creative spark.

We have all heard that when God did create
On our palms, was inscribed our fate
I do believe that our blueprints may already be in place
Yet our place isn’t defined by the lines within a five-finger space

For after all: it matters not what someone is born, but what they grow to be.


A 270-word poem, and here’s to wishing my blog on its second year alive 🙂 Not exactly its birthday, but actually its birth week. While this post does have many references to stereotypical gender roles, I believe that it is up to each of us to pick our battles and stand for what we believe in. If you believe that your roles and responsibilities aren’t defined by who you are, but rather what you can do, then you live up to the belief that I wanted the poem to express and have mentioned in the last few lines.

Day 15: An Immortal Phoenix With a Horcrux

Today’s Prompt: Think about an event you’ve attended and loved. Your hometown’s annual fair. That life-changing music festival. A conference that shifted your worldview. Imagine you’re told it will be cancelled forever or taken over by an evil corporate force. How does that make you feel?

Today’s twist: While writing this post, focus again on your own voice. Pay attention to your word choice, tone, and rhythm. Read each sentence aloud multiple times, making edits as you read through. Before you hit “Publish,” read your entire piece out loud to ensure it sounds like you.


Before I even begin, I know I’m going to hate this prompt. I have grown to prefer writing spontaneously and then checking for grammar errors and then pushing the publish button. But no. Now I have to “Read each sentence aloud multiple times, making edits as you read through” and this isn’t going to sound like me – I usually think as I write, but think before I speak. And I like writing a teeny bit more than I like speaking. But then, who said we have to speak to make our voices heard?

Continue reading Day 15: An Immortal Phoenix With a Horcrux