Whose Hand Will Touch Today? Poem by Dann Thomas

A little boy skips along holding his father's right hand
While the left hand is cuffed to a tough policeman
On their way to find out how the courts decide their future.
Will it be life for man and boy, or life with a number?

Whose hand will you touch today, was it the same as yesterday
Did it bring someone hope, or does it really matter anyway


A beautiful hand hung listlessly from under a sheet
The rest of her was totally scarred from face to feet
Burnt out with acid from another possessive hand.
Pleading. All she had done was refuse his demands.

Whose hand will you touch today, was it the same as yesterday
Did it takeaway someone's pain, oh it doesn't really it matter anyway


Hands reach out wrinkled and wet through the grey of a cold morning
From lost lands a shadow of a dead boat's soulless moaning
People seeking for hope on the wayward waters that roam
For a hand that will welcome them to what they can call home


Whose hand will you touch today, was it the same as yesterday
Was it to reachout to someone, or does it really matter anyway