Hands

My hands shake yours. Whether it's a professional greeting or a casual meeting. They are quite social. My hands write what they feel and feel what they write. I ain't no lefty so I write with my right. My hands feel things that my eyes can't see. The sensitivity in them has increased because my sight is deceased. My hands fight. Whether it's in a balled up fist in the air or against an enemy's cheek, my hands are not weak. My hands pick up things that seem unimportant, but my hands can't seem to ignore it. My hands steer me down the highway because I have control and travel myway. My hands are calloused and rough because life ain't easy, it's tough. My hands create music and rhythms, moving so fast pastors want to do exorcisms. These hands ain't possessed, they're blessed.