a hand held

I never knew a hand could hold a universe,
Until hers folded into mine—
Small, unlined, gripping with trust implicit,
A compact of identity in miniature.

This hand, five fingers spread,
Is a starfish pulled from the ocean's bed,
Gasping in the alien air, seeking
The familiar tide of her heritage.

Her grasp is a declaration,
"I am here, and I am yours,"
A statement of belonging,
In a world that's ever shifting.

We walk, her steps falter, mine firm,
But in this clasp, there's an exchange—
Strength flows both ways,
In the currency of love and knowing.

Her hand, a vessel of potential,
My own, a map of roads taken,
Together, a conversation without words,
A dance of possibility and memory.

In this touch, I find my past,
And she finds her future,
Our identities interwoven,
In the silent language of hands held