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Hands

by Derek Gregory



Give me your hands.
Let me touch them,
feel them.
Are they the hands of a watchmaker?
Soft, delicate, and caring?
Do you build creations
slowly and with thought and love?
Oblivious to your surroundings?
Then leave your creations alone,
moving to the next?
I need to touch your hands and know you are real,
put a face to somebody always talked about.
Faith isn't enough, I need contact,
to feel your touch would rip the fabric of my existence.
Lets take a walk around your creation,
see how your watch is working millions of years after its sweet conception...
Sarajevo, home of three religions.
Each a cog in your earth clock.
Once a great city of the Olympics,
now mothers identify the bodies of their men
from the pit found in Olympics stadium,
The cogs here are grinding and gnawing,
blood flows down the clock face
mixing with the blood from the other thousands of cogs
pulverizing and gnashing
against one another all over earth.

FEB98

03/27/2003

Posted on 03/27/2003
Copyright © 2024 Derek Gregory

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