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Dominique DeGennaro, Grade 10
The Mary Louis Academy
“The Hands of Fortitude”
As I lay on this cold, stone bed near heaven,
I glance at my hands that lay on my chest.
Rising and falling with each fateful breath taken,
Yet keeping their strong grip to grasp onto life.
I remember the time when I was a young boy,
Living each day of my life to the fullest.
Being free from chains filled my heart with pure joy.
I would look at the hands I still had today.
Not a wrinkle or blemish could taint my hands,
The embodiment of life and my very own spirit.
They gripped tight to my tenets and true to my plans.
I fought hard against injustice, although they were bare.
But as time went on, my hands began to change
The years of wisdom and mistakes became evident.
Slowly, between my hands, appeared metal chains,
Because my hands were not of their hue.
My people’s hands became those of disgrace,
But with my hands, I would not stop the fight
For though they tried, pride could not be erased.
Eventually, though I gained scars, the battle was won.
And I lay here, on this cold stone bed near heaven,
And look at the hands who have kept me alive.
No longer can they keep their lively expression.
I glance at my pure hands for the first time.
