Sophia’s Hands
A poem by Diane Frank

Sophia’s Hands

Just before she was born,
her father tripped over Emily Dickinson’s grave.
Her poems are wiser than her years,
and sometimes I wonder how
these words can come from a pen
held by such small hands.

Her father says Sophia’s poems
come from somewhere else –
a nine-year-old philosopher
fluent in all of Emily’s themes.
As she climbs the trail up to Mt. Tam,
an egret flies into the light
and illuminates her vision.

As she braids her long blonde hair,
she hears the voice of her generation,
the silk of silent prayers.
My prayer is that as her hands
reach into her woman years,
she will keep climbing mountains,
listen to the birds, the rocks, the ocean
and hear the quiet whisper
of the hidden world.

About the Author:

Diane Frank is author of eight books of poems, two novels, and a photo memoir of her 400 mile trek in the Himalayas. While Listening to the Enigma Variations: New and Selected Poems won the 2022 Next Generation Indie Book Award for Poetry. She’s editor of Fog and Light: San Francisco through the Eyes of the Poets Who Live Here, and plays cello in the Golden Gate Symphony. http://dianefrank.net/

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