These Broken Hands

These Broken Hands

These broken hands, so crippled,

Beneath life’s setting golden door,

Browned and holding tender thoughts,

Of yesterdays that stand no more.

These tender eyes so weary,

So full of life and pains of death,

See beauty inside beauty,

On winged angels, forever rest.

These drying lips remember,

The words that flew away,

On starry steps of paradise,

Where every echo lays.

This beating heart that lingers,

To sing its last goodbye,

Fulfilled by death, we cross the bar,

For only our body dies.