Hands

In a world where there are a thousand 
hands holding scalpels and clamps, 
willing to dissect every nerve and 
vessel of your body till you bleed 
anxiety and turn into a carcass, 
Hands that carry a book, 
a bar of chocolate and 
a jar full of kindness 
deserve to be cherished.

Hands that wear their heart 
on their sleeves despite being shattered, 
Hands that cup your cheeks like 
parentheses and 
catch your tears before 
they roll out on your chin and 
fall off your face, 
Hands that are trembling themselves 
yet manage to hold onto yours 
when a storm is brewing, 
need to be acknowledged.

Hands that write earth shattering poetry, 
that paint the most beautiful sunsets, 
that strum the strings of the guitar 
like it's the only thing they've ever known; 
Hands that give out notes of hope 
on days when you're feeling a little blue, 
that hold onto you a little tight 
when they warmly embrace you, 
that are made of one part rebellion 
and two parts of compassion, 
need to be treasured.

Hands that contain such fine lines 
and feel so rough and callous, 
they make you wonder 
how many stories they have to tell 
and how many tragedies 
they have survived; 
Hands that if ever injured 
would only bleed out empathy, 
are what this world needs.

~Anushthi