PostPoems Be Artistic. Be Creative. Be Inspired!

Take time to gaze into these hands.

What do you see?

Can you read my palms, my life lines which run deep?

Do you see nothing but barren skin?

Pale Sandy complexion as an unnerving reflection

Of the drought of life lived....

I see strength from work.

I see scars from fight.

I see scratches from failure.

I see bruises from beating

Back the Enemy of complacency...

I see lines of ancestry

From those who came before me.

Those who have fought

The battle that I cannot even fathom,

Living through,

Enduring.

When I look into these hands

Each day,

I look into a mirror.

I ask myself,

"Are these hands soft from comfort

Or

Rough from the fight to uphold my ancestry legacy, lineage?"

"Are these hands used for furthering His work

Or

Satisfying intangible desires?"

What story will your hands tell?

What will your hands pass along?

Who will your hands reach?

What story will these hands tell?

I've found that:

Closed hands do harm,

Tied hands do nothing,

Clasped hands alone

Cannot accomplish what

A multitude of me

With open hands can...

Take my hand.