the hand that
balled into a fist,
and struck another
man down...
the hand that stole
the money to feed
his family that was hungry....
the hand that wrote angry words,
threw a stone through the window.
the hand that shut the door,
leaving the stranger outside...
the hand that tore
down all that it had built,
feeling the rage of alone....
the hand that pulled the trigger,
pushed the button,
rang the register.....
the hand that touched
forbidden places,
brought rain from a cloudless sky....
the hand that clasped the other,
kneeling to pray for forgiveness....
just wiped tears from the
face of God... found the key,
and opened the door!
Wow, very interesting. I read this as a representation of how we are not completely fixed into one title or position, there are a million faces to each person.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Well written...well said the hand that clasped the other, kneeling to pray for forgiveness.... just wiped tears from the face of God... found the key, and opened the door