A reach out
A final cry into the vast emptiness
A hand that seen the destruction
Stretching past charred ruins
A hand that harbors the fondest of memories
Stretching past forgotten corpses
A hand that beckons for mercy
Stretching past faceless screams
Into the darkest of mornings
What were once wrists
That twisted to wave goodbye
Do it one final time
What were once palms
That caressed the cheek of every son and daughter
Melt into painful obscurity
What were once fingers
That pointed out the mistakes of man
Curl in an agonizing manner
Skin radiating as bright as the flash
Bone to dust as quickly as the heat wave
Screams as deafening as the roar of the explosion
Bones broken and bent as the buildings are
A final cry into the vast emptiness
Not heard, for it has no voice
Crushed under the pain of thousands
A hand without a face, or name
Becomes the hand of all
First one, then two, then thousands
The hands of the forgotten
Reaching out
Together
One final time
A final cry into the vast emptiness
A hand that seen the destruction
Stretching past charred ruins
A hand that harbors the fondest of memories
Stretching past forgotten corpses
A hand that beckons for mercy
Stretching past faceless screams
Into the darkest of mornings
What were once wrists
That twisted to wave goodbye
Do it one final time
What were once palms
That caressed the cheek of every son and daughter
Melt into painful obscurity
What were once fingers
That pointed out the mistakes of man
Curl in an agonizing manner
Skin radiating as bright as the flash
Bone to dust as quickly as the heat wave
Screams as deafening as the roar of the explosion
Bones broken and bent as the buildings are
A final cry into the vast emptiness
Not heard, for it has no voice
Crushed under the pain of thousands
A hand without a face, or name
Becomes the hand of all
First one, then two, then thousands
The hands of the forgotten
Reaching out
Together
One final time
2 comments:
This poem was very well written. I enjoyed how it flowed and really well portrayed the feel of the picture. I especially like the part that discusses each part of the hand and how they have now been destroyed and are gone. The idea of the hands of the forgotten was very powerful and very creative. Well done.
i agree with micah, perry. a powerful piece that imagines the collective hand (and hence the collective experience of having lived through the bomb) through the image of a single hand. i especially like how you *humanize* this hand - that it could have waved goodbye, touched the cheek of a loved one, etc.
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