The Hands Unknown Poem by KATOCH P C K PREM

THE HANDS UNKNOWN

It is spring in the affairs of mortals
here flowers emit fragrance,
that touch the limits of sky
and speak the truth of Mount Kailash.

Here faces walk with jagged profiles
where blood oozes out daily.

All doors and windows carry eyes
and see blood on roads, lanes and in houses,
nobody knows the hands unknown
amidst spires and battlements,
that kill and pray at the same time
in temple and in an oasis,
so that a soul is saved.

And man writes history of peace
and hesitant non-violence,
for there lies the hope of mankind.
(The Bermuda Triangles 1996)