These Hands, These Hands
These Hands, These Hands
I have seen hands like this before
In every size and color
Hands that are parched and withered
Strong hands, tired hands
Hands that can bear any load
Hurting hands that are calloused
And bent, yet these hands can be
Gentle as a kitten’s paw
Ready and able to hold and heal.
I have seen hands like this before
In upscale bistros and small-town cafes
Stashing meager tips
for the American dream.
I have watched as these hands
Hawk “The Herald”
For pennies on the dollar
Shovel coal into buckets
And black death into their lungs.
I have seen hands like this before
Hands of everyday heroes
Carrying bodies from burning towers
Pulling girder after girder
From twisted wreckage,
Hands that wipe away dirt and ash
To salute a tattered flag with pride
Determined to stand tall
In the face of terror.
I have seen hands like this before
Caring hands that teach and guide
Encourage and praise,
Motherly hands nurturing, holding
Rocking, gently disciplining
without ever harming,
Hands always willing to reach out
And help their fellow man
Always ready to volunteer.
I have seen hands like this before
Hands that create masterpieces
Deliver hope and build nations
Hands that with hard work
And determination grow stronger
Each time they reach out to others
To protect, pardon or applaud
Hands of the working man
Hands of the mother and father
Hands of teachers, doctors, nurses
Laborers, soldiers and farmers
Hands of waitresses, secretaries
Firemen and police
Hands that give comfort and aid
Hands that heal our pain
And join together in prayer
Hands that touch our lives
In simple but profound ways.
These hands, these hands
These loving, generous hands
Never resign, always giving
These hands are your hands and mine.
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