Take My Hand
We might extend our hands to pull someone to safety,
or aggressively shove them into harm’s way.
The very hands that offer a warm embrace,
might push away in times of anger or fear.
When you shake a hand, you greet someone as a friend.
When you make a fist, you defiantly oppose them.
The same hands that offer a deep massage,
and gently wash a child’s back.
can create a sculpture of exquisite beauty,
a painting with depths of mystery,
or write words that burn with hate.
They can pick a bouquet, plant a seed,
row a boat, or climb a tree;
they can save a life, take a life,
or leave behind a life well-lived.
Our hands are an extension
of our soul;
they act out our thoughts
and move at our command.
Take my hand
Let’s walk awhile and talk of the hands we’ve been dealt.
I really have no words since this is so deeply expressive that it can't be easily summed up or talked about, from my brain. It's wonderful, is all I can say.
ReplyDeleteThank you, Judy.
ReplyDeleteThis is a wonderful poem-- I particularly like the switch at the end when you mention "the hands we've been dealt"-- a completely different meaning of hands than the rest of the poem. It is surprising and thought-provoking.
ReplyDeleteThanks, Brynn. I had two thoughts at the end. I initially was thinking about using the 'hands of time' but then thought of the 'hands we've been dealt' and liked how it fit with the rest of the poem.
ReplyDeleteI like this one a lot, too. Thank you!
ReplyDelete