My Uncles' Hands Were Strong...

My uncles were strong men

with strong hands; hands

fathering children they never had.

My uncles were strong men

with strong hands; hands

yet gentle like the chiseled hands

of Michelangelo’s Pieta:

strong saintly soothing hands

that touched tender souls with gentleness

only undying love could give.

From their strong hands

and bent backs

rose a Siamese nation

of oppressors and the oppressed:

a Janus nation whose faces reflected

the mockery of its supposed democracy.

My uncles’ hands were strong; hands

strong like steel hammers and anvils:

strong fisted hands breaking chattel chains.

Yes, my uncles’ hands were strong---

“and the strong men just keep coming on…!”

God, let me be strong

like my uncles---

“and the strong men just keep coming on…!”