Skip to main content

In My Hands


I dreamed I had colossal hands. I mean the size of hope!

Someone asked, “Are those your hands?” and I said, “No."

"I wish they were, my friend… If I had hands that big I would have held the (H)eartH before the war and kept her children in.

I’d have put her in my hands and ran so far away! Away from empire!
Away from conquerors and maddened men!

And, while I ran, I’d have held her close near my ear and I’d have learned to speak her language, yet still heard her people dear.”

Then my hands started to shake and I heard the people in them
begin to slake, `Freedom! Freedom! Freedom!

A small child then stood upon my wrist and declared to me,
`You can put us down, my friend, we are finally free…’

I awoke suddenly! I could still hear the echoes of `freedom’...
My hands trembled.

Love...

(Silence...)


© 2012 the spirit of Love dancing through Mark Richard Prime

Labels:

Comments

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

ROOT OF

"For the love of money is a root of all kinds of evil. Some people, eager for money, have wandered from the faith and pierced themselves with many griefs." __1 Timothy 6:10 It is MONEY, not the LOVE of it that is the issue, the true problem. Love, in and of itself, is never a problem, WANT and NEED, or better yet- the WANT and the conundrum of its very REQUIREMENT for our survival IS the problem, it's creation and our blind use of it is logically the ROOT. In other words, let's leave LOVE out of it altogether and deal with the facts instead. If money were not made by us as a requirement for our survival, we'd find ourselves in a much better position to argue of its need and our want of it. MRP Peace and Love © 2015 Mark Richard Prime
Post a Comment
read the poem
........•SHRIEKING MACHINE•........                  •HEAD-LINES•                           •RIP•     ---(“Russian missiles blast Ukrainian military academy and hospital, killing more than 50, officials say”)---    There are no more lessons to learn here, no more beds to hold the human wounded, just missile’s shrieking their grotesque ode, The Death of Humankind! RIP, children of God…    ---(“Hundreds attend Mercer Island vigil, march for murdered Israeli hostages”)---    Dear mourners, this is the brutal vacuum of a genocidal, terror-filled, indiscriminate war-machine made of fear and we are all hostages to its deafening roar! RIP, children of God…    ---(“10-year-old allegedly confesses to fatally shooting 82-year-old man and his daughter”)---    I must confess, this is part of war’s shrieking, children lost with a we...
Post a Comment
read the poem

sdrawkcaB nruT (Turn Backwards)

I have been witness to the four pillars and see no reason to carry death there. Doesn’t the world know that life moves for more than just the sons of Abraham? O! I see the stunned throats floating by in the dusk to their stiff-limbed sleep as metal rains down over the Jordan’s western prophet, children dying there. I am here, waiting, breathing in the dusk under the shadow of the patriarch, asking, can we again build the shrine inside the soul and leave our flesh to time? © 2008 mrp/thepoetryman
32 comments
read the poem