if these hands could talk

If these hands could talk, they wouldn’t stop.
They would tell you stories of the past.
These hands would teach you lessons
of hard work and perseverance. These hands
would just because they could. All the scars,
callasses, bruises, and creases show others
that life is a long, winding road that eventually
ends. I can’t pretend that it has been easy.
But, if it were easy, what would it teach me?
These hands would tell you that it will be
okay. You will move on and see a new day.
If these hands could talk, you would understand
that I have gone to war, but came out alive.
Yes, these hands would tell you that I survived.
In this life, these hands have been wet, burned,
bloodied, hurt, and disregarded. But these hands
would tell you that we are just getting started.
If these hands could talk, they would scream:
“Hold me as I long for touch and acceptance”.
They would talk just to talk just like feet walk.

Dead Ends

The rubber met the road. The pedal hit the metal.
Raindrops filled the kettle. The explorer did not settle.
The peasant earns Shekels. Many faces wear frowns.
Some attendees heckled. The rubber met the road.
The host ended the show. Robots speak morse code.
Frogs claim to be toads. The snakes in the grass
slither fast as the blades cut and the blinds shut.
In life, follow your sight and do what is right.
Trust your gut. Pretend that you did not just hit
a dead end. Go spend time before time spends
you. It is time to lose the shoes and move out
of the way of the kicking boot. I mean, shoot.
Time to turn around. We are not quite ready
to sing the blues, read the news, or face
the fact that we must pay off our debt.
Just turn around and you will be free: set.