Still Hands

Under a decorated tree
Sit presents wrapped and waiting.
The little hands
That should be ripping
Open all the paper
Have been stilled
Their excitement stolen
Nothing can bring back
Their innocent joy

This Christmas season
In their honor
I pledge to remember
To dance in the rain
To take joy in the lights
To rip the paper off like a child
To see the world
As a place of magic and wonder

In honor of those still hands
I will give out hugs freely
Dispense smiles without hesitation
Cry when I hurt
Those hands may be still,
But mine are not.
To honor those still hands
I will use mine
To make our world better
Until my hands are still

This poem is dedicated to the hands that were stilled in tragedy in Connecticut yesterday.

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