Black Hands (Terry Butler)

 

These black hands hold relationships sacred

tears as water wash away not the pain

eyes of compassion indifference with hatred

full heart thy empathy displaced disdain

These black hands indiscriminate kindness

a willful mind locked in body’s decay

Pursuit of life and gathering fineness

time precious time won’t halt nor delay

These old black hands shall no more know defeat

though calloused and scared disfigured and rough

hold fast to salvation such sweet retreat

desires unfulfilled is time there enough

These black hands justly tempered and now pure

rest among multitudes  colors obscure

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