Dirty Hands


Dirty hands pressed together

searching for a spring

to wash away these frosty days

and ease this suffering


Dirty hands push the plow

to sow tomorrow’s pain

a blistered blessing glist’ning sweat

held out in hope of rain


Dirty hands reach up

grasping for a plate

to feed a fickle fantasy

a hunger for to sate


Dirty hands dealt down

clenched and forming fists

a promise for preeminental

pummels upon wrists


Dirty hands pointing out

for bags of silver three

the way for bloody feet to tread

and darkened eyes to see


Dirty hands dig themselves

deeper everyday

a pity as their penitence

but buried there to stay


Dirty hands rub upon

dirty arms and legs

with dreams pristine they seek to clean

themselves down in the dregs


Dirty hands pressed together

nowhere left to go

despair set in through sordid sin

without forgiving flow


Dirty hands drift above

and flail to stay aloft

within the miry muck downpoured

from clouds above the waft


Dirty hands plunged beneath

the dark and stormy tides

for their at last once all has past

their cleanliness abides


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