A hand of wax
A hand of clay.
Making it takes
Some of the pain away.
A hand of bronze
Or steel or gold
Keeps the memory young
As we grow old.
The hands around me
That form this quilt,
Are of strength
Not of guilt,
We stood up
For those who can't
A brother, a sister,
An uncle, an aunt.
So touch my hand
And feel my pain
And promise to never
Let it happen again.
