Sanat

Shake like you mean it, son - firm grip and steady eye
I passed the test at seven and I never questioned why
Hands were for the proving: for the ladder and the wheel
For the handshake as a duel, for the fist you must conceal

Nobody ever told me what a hand is really worth
Till I watched these rough ten fingers set a seedling in the earth
Till a sleeping newborn anchored her whole world around my thumb
And the grip I'd built my pride on was the weakest thing I'd done

All those years of holding on so tight
When the secret was the opening

These hands were not made for taking
They were made for giving away
For the bread and the soil and the building
For the small of your back as we sway
Every callus can soften to blessing
Every knuckle unlearn the war
I spent half a life just gripping
Now I know what these hands are for

For applause at the school spring concert, for the fevered brow at three
For the old dog's final hour, for the splinter and the key
For carrying the shopping, for carrying the lost
For building things that outlast winter without counting up the cost

These hands were not made for taking
They were made for giving away
For the bread and the soil and the building
For the small of your back as we sway
Every callus can soften to blessing
Every knuckle unlearn the war
I spent half a life just gripping
Now I know what these hands are for

The body is the temple and these hands are its two doors
Open, open, open - that is what a door is for
And when I reach for you at midnight, it's a prayer and not a claim
The same hands, the same fire - but nothing burns the same

These hands were not made for taking
They were made for the making of home
For the lifting of children and ceilings
For the letting go of all that they hold
Every scar is a map of the harbor
Every line is a river to shore
I spent half a life just gripping
Now I know what these hands are for

Look at them
Open
Empty and full at the same time
Open