Knotted, gnarled, bruised and cut <br />Fingers missing and hands no better <br />Bandaged where raw, torn and sore, <br />These then are the hands of a leper. <br /> <br />She uses her hands like any of us <br />They’ve been with her for oh so long <br />Though the sight of them now disgusts her, <br />Hands that once caressed and righted wrong. <br /> <br />Now bereft of beauty or touch <br />An appendage with little feel. <br />At times she looks at them hoping <br />That someday they may heal. <br /> <br />We try to stay away from them <br />No family, these rejects of society, <br />There are others to take care of them <br />Most certainly not our responsibility. <br /> <br />But the pain and anguish in every finger <br />Is a pointer for us, a simple reminder <br />That we have to reach out, to touch another <br />For God also resides, in the hands of the leper.<br /><br />Dann Thomas<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/the-hands-of-god-2/
