Moses, I ask about your hands, <br />Things they could have held... <br />Rough, hardened from desert <br />Passages, sandstorms, acrid suns. <br /> <br />You could not touch your wife <br />With softness...did your words <br />Suffice...into the night, <br />Past the dawn? <br /> <br />You could not touch petals of a <br />Flower...did you touch its softness <br />With your eyes? Did you regret <br />Passing by its beauty? <br /> <br />You could not touch a baby's <br />Cheek, tickle laughter from its <br />Belly. Did the baby see, in your <br />Soul, softness you could not give? <br />Did you hear laughter when you <br />Left the tent? <br /> <br />But, you went to the mountaintop... <br />Were you joyous, relieved finally, <br />Knowing your hands could hold <br />Stone... <br />Rough hands, rough stone, <br />Rough laws <br />For human kind?<br /><br />elysabeth faslund<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/moses-answer-me/
