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My hands
My hands
They have helped me forge a path ahead when the route upfront was unclear
They have aided me to ascend, to scale when the strife of life I could not bear.
They held me together, aided and assisted; they embraced my flagging spirits.
They prodded, pushed and shoved; made me fight and rise beyond my limits.
My hands that God forged as my weapons, have helped me craft my own road.
Oh sure! They did get dirty along the way but for me they cleared a path, broad.
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These weapons of mine have sometimes held weapons to shield and to defend.
But, they have also shaped my character, helped me to heal, be on the mend.
When I look down at my hands what I see are the truest reflections of my soul.
My flaws, my shortcomings, my inclinations; everything that makes me whole.
I look down at them and I see how far they have carried my burdens and me
for my muddied hands bear testimony to what I rue, my remorse; you see.
