A Deep and Troubling Truth

Hands Stretched out like branches Reaching for the kiss of sun An army of hands, brown hands Stretched out at me Shrivelled weak hands Looking for their daily bread. Hands With nobody to hold No star close for them to touch To shake off the dust and shimmer Slowly move back to folded arms Hands that know not how to give Stretch out to touch the troubled Hands that serve only his purpose. Hands Snatching from the pot Blind hands grab the rich jasper To exchange it for some nourishment Hands that know only to grab from another Hands that serve only his purpose Looking for their daily bread.