Hands

I used to look at my hands in wonder
The intricacies of life made me ponder
Beauty created by a power so great
Not a statistic, but I know my place
My hands will speak out on that day
I fear for I know what they shall say
Innocent beginnings with feeble mind
Slowly straying with time comes crime
Misusing the gift as if it’s mine at all
Do I help them up or let them fall?
The rope I clutch not hard enough
Burning coal in hand, hot to touch
Let alone grasp, for release – never
Hands shackled to be free forever.