…for what good
has it rendered us
when brute force
is applied in moments
of anything beyond
personal defense
and the protection
of humans too small
to fend for themselves

have we pummeled
our compassion into
a prison
of impressive manufacture
where reason
is losing grip rapidly
when the clutch
of conversation
can no longer calm
the internal savage

what is the work
of an open hand
can it press the palm
of one who is falling
plant a garden
atop the rubble
construct the beautiful
from shards
of shattered glass

what is the work
of a closed fist
can it break solace
into a thousand
incoherent pieces
will it stem the bleeding
of an open wound
does it discover
the way back
from the pathway
towards perdition

from this
mishandled past
may our legacy
be a handiwork
of unfolded fingers
and open hands.