The Hands Of Man Poem by Joseph Williams

Hands are more than bones and tendon
They are servants of our ambitions
Tools of desire and means of destruction
It is our hands that we shape the world like clay

They've cobbled beautiful mausoleums for their rulers
And they've smoothed silver worth a thousand fortunes
Proudly held picket signs against unjust justice
And they've nailed the last few posts of picket fence

They've picked fruit fresh from Georgia's bloomed orchards
And they have wielded mighty and terrible power
Painted breathtaking works of art by candle light
And created gas that took the breath away

It is these same hands that build our children's cradle
That they must cross when we lay still in our caskets
But these hands will not leave this world empty
For they have known what it is to embrace a handful of love