Hands

They touch, they grasp, they clench, they open wide;

They clap, they wave, they spread in gesture mute;

They clasp another’s in a greeting warm.

They threaten, beat; they torture and deride,

They grip to choke, their power is absolute;

They soothe, they stroke, they calm the inner storm.

By them our cravings may be satisfied,

They may our pain and suffering commute;

With music can our savage breasts transform,

And may to us at once bring shame and pride.

Our hands to show base nature rarely fail,

Yet placed together in devotion can

Uplift the careworn hopeless lot of man

To link his with the Hands that felt the nail !

 

Weekly Times     29.7.60