THOSE EMPTY HANDS

You may see them empty
His empty hands
But the ocean of love
Spread across his hands
Is visible only to me

I alone belive in its fullness
As I alone feel its warmth
They are made for me
For me to seek solace
Solace in which I find me

Those empty hands of him
Taught me to write
When mine were dead alive
Poured the ink of bliss
Through those lean fingers

I was jealous, jealous
Of those worthy hands
Because even without the cuffs
They made me a slave
Slavery which I asked for...