More Than You Know
This poem is a response to In My Hands by Irene Gut Opdyke.
The knuckles of a fighter,
The nails of a worker,
The palms of hope,
The fingers of giving.

The scars of hurt,
The marks of pain,
The lines of stories,
The skin of truth.

The fists of lies,
The blood of defeat,
The sweat of worries,
The prayers of plead.

The bruises of punches,
The holding of others,
The stain of secrets,
The shaking of fear.

More than a body part,
More than blood and bones,
Shows what I did,
Defines who I am.

They gave food to the hungry,
Gave blankets to the cold,
Gave shelter to the homeless,
And kept lives alive.

I come from a past,
Of murder,
Darkness,
Evil.

Where there was little light,
To reach,
Where the sky looked,
No longer blue.

I am a witness,
Almost a victim,
Of humans being,
No longer human.

In my hands lies,
The slaughters,
The suffering,
The sobs.

In my hands lies,
The families torn apart,

The sins of the soldiers,
And the innocent lives taken.

The knuckles of a fighter,
The nails of a worker,
The palms of hope,
The fingers of giving.