Beautiful Hands

We stooped under the door

We entered into a shelter-

a barely habitable structure

with warm air, strong smell, & dirt floor.

This was her home.

She welcomed the outsiders-

with our wide eyes & light skin.

She demonstrated her work.

We watched her grind the coconut-

with power & grace.

She was strength & she was diligence.

I couldn't take my eyes away,

I couldn't stop looking at her hands-

hands of power & grace,

working to make her commodity-

coconut oil "to keep skin beautiful."

She sold beauty in a bottle,

and her shirt was tied together

just for the sake of modesty.

I looked around her home- walls, tin, & dirt.

I took in her work- the sweat & strength of her hands.

I cried as I came face to face with the life of an elderly woman,

selling beauty in a bottle.

If only I could bottle up her hands,

her beautiful hands.