The Hands of Time

Your hands, they work like

The hands of someone who

Always has something

To say.

You heed no one’s pleas

And race ahead as though

You always have somewhere to be

We are helpless in your shadow

Left standing with lives, incomplete

And still you race forward, as though

You are afraid, we will someday

Learn to outrun you


Is it too much to ask

To live in a world free of prejudices, a world where compassion reigns over hatred. To take to the streets with head held high, to never fear another human being. To walk hand in hand with those whom we once were wrong to consider enemies. To show pride where pride is needed, to call ourselves only by the names we know to be true. To reach out a hand to others without asking questions, to accept the help offered to us because we can’t be strong forever. To live in a place where black and white are only parts of a spectrum, not ways to pass judgment, a world where we face the truth without hiding behind lies. To be a part of something bigger than ourselves, to feel someone else’s pain.

But, alas, I remain a dreamer. And even dreamers realize not all their dreams come true.