Sacred Hands

A Poem by Justice Smith

Sacred hands,

healing what you thought touch could never fix.

Holding out it's heart,

in hopes that you feel the same.

Hands that have meaning,

and life.

Hands that know your soul.

Hands that know your past,

all the things you've done,

and how you've felt.

Hands that know every part of you,

yet chose to stay.

These you must keep close.

Because those hands will stay

if treated right.

But if you take them for granted,

and misuse them,

they will no longer be there

to catch you when you fall,

to wipe away those tears,

to comfort you in your time of need.

So when you find those hands,

hold onto them.

And don't let go.

Not even for an instant.

For once you do,

you will lose them.

And they will never come back.

Oh how we all long

for those simple,

sacred hands.

© 2013 Justice Smith

Author's Note

Questions, comments, concerns, suggestions, etc. I'm all ears.

My Review

Would you like to review this Poem?
Login | Register

Featured Review

TLK

"could never be fixed" feels overlong in my mouth. How about "healing what you thought TOUCH could never fix"? It's quite a large change, and perhaps I like it because I know about the concept of such psychic healing. But I hope it gives you thought nonetheless. The word 'touch' might focus the poem even more on the action of these appendages.

The poem winds on to really pull me into a feeling of a lost childhood, and the ending triplet absolutely nails the bereavement of simplicity that an adult should feel if they have grown up.