Page 11 - Contrast1962Decemberv1n1

Hands

I looked at my hands today--
Hands that have been used to the best care that I could give them.

How beautiful they were.
Each slender, graceful finger ends in a long tapered fingernail.
I saw their beauty, and I was filled with pride.

Then I thought of another pair of hands--

Rough, weather-beaten hands,
Hands that stooped to help neighbors,

Hands that lovingly touched little children,

Jamds tjat were 1!~ways extended in friendship,

Hands tha.t were used to shape the whole course of history

Hands that carried a heavy cross up Calv~ry's hill, '

Only to be nailed to that Cross.

pamperr-:dhands,
Then I looked again at my beautiful,

».:':And I was filled with shame.
Joanna Hambleton

Poem

lis-~en
the sound of jagz is the sound of

a sex-beat on a drum
a body on the way up
a note on its way through a soul

Pat Lawson

Great Stones

Great stones, half hidden in the endless rain,
Form unguessed patterns on t~e formless plain.
Wh2t ancient people left them here, and why,
These monstroUs symbo ls rai scd against the sky?
Was this the dwelling of t he ir unknown God,
Or burial grounG for kings, th:'1_nto man trod?
Not knowing th~ answers the meaning comes to me,
These broken f,tones are all our dreams to be,
All that we are anct al~ we've. ever known,
We too will leave as r1ddles 1n the stone.

Janet Shell

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