i dreamed last night...
and all i could see were hands.
sometimes hard and calloused,
sometimes soft and feminine.
skilled hands, laborer's hands,
loving hands, nurturing hands....
fingers digging in the dirt,
fingers holding a pen.
fingers playing a piano,
fingers unbuttoning blouses.
hands extended, hands gripping the rope,
hands holding the shovel,
hands covered with resin.
hands folded in prayer,
hands balled into fists.
hands stuffed in empty pockets.
hands that define both history,
and destiny!
hands scarred and bruised,
hands covered with age spots.
hands that speak many languages.
hands that know mistakes, and failures.
hands that built fires,
hands that put fires out!
hands that wiped away tears,
that picked up trash,
and revealed souls....
whose hands?
my hands, your hands?
god's hands?
does it really matter?
hands engaged and involved,
in the very act of living!
The hands can tell a lot about the life we have lived. A fantastic poem.
Love it man! Speaks to our current state and how it should be instead of hands held out wanting without doing any of the work.. at least that's what I saw..
Love it man! Speaks to our current state and how it should be instead of hands held out wanting without doing any of the work.. at least that's what I saw..
what a splendid dream....and how true thank you for sharing sir love payal
Superb poetry. Hands and hands, fabulous, intriguing, real and magic I thoroughly enjoyed this poem excellent
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Oh Eric! I love this!