Our Hands

Our hands so often shine for us
  though they may undermine us
They might even confine us, yet 
  our hands our what truly define us --

Our hands gesture, gesticulate, threaten and warn
  expressing our feelings from the moment we're born
We wave excited greetings to the world as day dawns 
  bury our faces in them, as a loved one's passing we mourn

Words come out of our mouths, but we speak with our hands
  A time-honored tradition, through time's shifting sands
Copyright © | Year Posted 2019

Poem

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Proxenos Avatar
January 31, 2019 at 1:25 PM
I love this poem Gershon and relate to it so much. Being Greek we always talk with our hands, someone once said to me if I tie your hands behind your back, could you describe what you just told us as well? That was food for thought! Poetry hugs, Jennifer.
Pigeon Tart Avatar
January 30, 2019 at 8:30 AM
This is wonderful Gershon! Have to giggle, have joke with hubby about the time I told him he was being demonstrative, he thought I meant demon~monster~tive! The more I laughed the more demonstrative he got ;p xomo!
Wolf Avatar
January 30, 2019 at 11:11 AM
Cute (monster) story! Thanks for sharing...So, next time hubby says, "Leave me alone," ask him how much he wants. ('Leave me a loan.'). :) :)
Vangaveti Avatar
January 30, 2019 at 4:49 AM
"Words come out of our mouths, but we speak with our hands" - I loved this. Superb write :)
Wolf Avatar
January 30, 2019 at 11:12 AM
Thanks for your encouragement, Swetha---and it's true, isn't it? I.e., we do 'speak with our hands.' Best wishes, Gershon
May Avatar
January 29, 2019 at 9:55 PM
Something I never thought about before but so true!
Wolf Avatar
January 30, 2019 at 11:13 AM
OK...So, how do you stop a Pole/Russian/Italian/Mexican/pick your ethnic group from speaking? Answer: Cut off his hands, of course! :) gw
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