Tuesday, April 8, 2008

These Hands

Right extended in air
Sworn to serve and protect
What have they done
Where have they gone

Trained to fit the trigger
Squeezed round of devastation
Where have they gone
What have they done

Given new life on cold steel
Belching monsters of raw power
What have they done
Where have they gone

Bruised and beaten for cash
Mangled to meet the ends
Where have they gone
What have they done

Reborn to salty paradise
Blown to far reaches
What have they done
Where have they gone

Gentle touch on a tiller
Soft lullaby of the rig
Where have they gone
What have they done

Felt the sweet embrace
Held love for ten and nine
What have they done
Where have they gone

Always cherished the soft caress
Always melted through golden silk
Where they have always gone
What they have always done.

4 comments:

Michelle Johnson said...

I love the repeating lines throughout this poem. You have created some strong images throughout. I felt you were speaking of war, sailing, and your wife. All brought to the page with heart. Thanks for sharing. Have a nice night.

Greyscale Territory said...

Loved how your hands became symbolic stages of your life.

But especially loved the echoing final questions in each stanza reaching for the ultimate answer.

Gemma

onemorebeliever said...

...absolutely.. .reborn to salty paradise..gentle touch on the tiller..

UL said...

oh yes, hands is the root....can do so much good, yet so much damage too..lovely