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Red Hands

A Poem About the Cruelty of Loving People

Sorry if this image makes you queasy. It is not real blood.

Destroyed by the image of black and gray

We kill with our hands up in the air

We slay the devils of this lair

Spill the blood of angles on the floor

While the holy dove nests in our hair

What has this world become

When blood is drawn from one

When we stab our neighbors on their backs

When we live in a world of black

When our love does not go far

When we are dirty within our hearts

We do live in a world of black and gray

But our hands…

Our hands are red.

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Red Hands
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