Hands (2005) Poem by Patrick Wescott

Staring at my hands,
as they tell a tale of life.
Cut and scabbed
calloused and burned.

Hours ago they clung for life
as I took in the view.
Now they handle papers
as my eyes fight to open.

What will they do tomorrow?
Will they ache to make a life?
Will they fail and let me fall,
or hold and find a way?

Will they stay strong,
or be dead to the touch?
Will they fight another day,
will they provide for you?