With This Hand
I've done a lot with this hand....
it's really amazing, when I consider it.
Held tools, held steering wheels, held pens,
held pistols, rifles, pulled triggers,
held and threw grenades,
carried stretchers, carried friends,
held other hands,
carressed typewriter keys,
and held babies and breasts.
Wiped away sweat,
wiped away tears,
calmed a cryng, trembling human being....
Held up this hand to swear an oath,
held out this hand in trust to someone,
paid with this hand,
held up this hand to stop something,
used this hand to hit, or to deflect,
used this hand to make gestures,
waved with this hand,
flipped the bird with this hand,
done a lot, with just this one hand.
Look at the lines there...
they weren't always there.
At one time there were no lines,
but with time, the lines came.
Then the callouses,
then the clenched fist,
and finally, eventually,
the open hand as it relaxes one last time.
Even then, it will be making a statement.
But by then I will be done with this hand.
Comments on this poem/writing:
|Meri (184.108.40.206) -- Saturday, March 31 2018, 06:16 pm|
Very powerful Shiloh.
|shiloh (220.127.116.11) -- Saturday, March 31 2018, 09:27 pm|
and I've sat, and held the hand of my friend, my brother, for sixteen hours, as he lay dying....
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Copyright©2017-1999 by Rebecca R. Hammack
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