GlovesOLYMPUS DIGITAL CAMERA
GLOVES
So many hands pull invaders
loose from earth, trying to return
to the old order.
So many spades bite
into rain soaked, sun brittle,
clay, crumbling into fine
sandy dust. Upturned and damp
it is readied receive new life,
descendants of old friends.
So many fingers crusted thick
with mud, probe beneath the sun
soaked ground into its cooler
depths where new roots reach out.
So many relentless days and years
digging, digging, digging
to return natives to their rightful
land try to regain lost wisdom.
So many shells of hands lie
lifeless in a pile.
Worn leather, sand, gritty clots
of earth, cling to canvas,
soil-stained brown-red.
So many five-fingered shapes
splayed out, cracked
and coated with traces
of their work,
silently awaiting
the next task.
Beth Shibata
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