Hollow Hands

Hollow Hands

They come with open, trembling palms,in need of warmth, in search of calm.They drink the light you freely give,but leave you empty, hard to live.

When tides reverse, when you need care,they turn away as if unaware.Your reaching hand, your quiet plea,is something they refuse to see.

And colder still, those cruel and hard,whose hearts are locked, whose doors are barred.They never learned to give or hold,to soften walls, to break the mold.

These hollow hands should never guide,where tender hearts and hope reside.For children need what they can’t give,to feel, to grow, to love, to live.

The answer lies in those who learn,who light the fire for warmth in turn.To give and take, to see and care,to hold the hurt when it is there.

For love is more than what we need,it’s what we give, it’s how we bleed.And those who dare to break the chain,bring healing where there once was pain.