Poetry Pickle

I have held many hands.

Hands rough with work and wear

Hands soft and smooth

Hands that have cared.

Hands that are shaking

Hands that earthquake tremor

Hands that wipe away tears

Hands that cannot remember

Hands that feel no more

Hands grasping for answers

Hands wringing and wrought

Hands, tiny and delicate

Hands soft and new

Hands praying, forgiveness

Hands praying, for answers

Hands to rub and soothe

Hands waving and frantic

Hands slapping

Hands clapping

Hands into fists of anger

Hands thumping and hitting

Hands on laps,

Hands, palms held up

Hands cleansed with water

Hands thick with dirt, yellowing nails

Hands do not lie

Hands tell our stories

I have held many hands

Let me hold yours

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