There Is No Song

THERE IS NO SONG

I can never write a song about the hands
They are with me always but are not in verse
In my life since I was too young
It's never a song, it's something worse

A chorus would be another instance
Of the times hands wrapped around me
A refrain against my will that reminds me
No song should be sung to haunt me

Fingers like these don't fit into music
Nothing lyrical in doing such wrong
Something ironic in now wanting hands to hold
Presenting the perpetually unsolved mystery
Of how hands have hurt, but my heart must heal

There is injustice in never speaking the words
Or telling the story of the hands and what they took from me
I have covered the hurts with so many things
And feared that my hands too would stray

No, there are no songs about those hands
There are only these stanzas to bring to light
How a young boy felt when he touched me first
How the guilt over so many years has remained secret

It's hard to count the things ruined or infected by those years
Tears shed wanting it never to happen
Time spent wondering if the scars show
Don't take away the daily reminder that it did

Hands of injustice move my clothes and make me
They touch inside even while outside and they stain me
Hands persist and are unknown to many
And in my song, I sing alone

There could be no interlude for voice
No chorus or verse to make the hands not ruin
But for another, the music may stir a response
A trust and fellowship in a shared misfortune

How many years must a man consider these hands
When will he grow beyond the first touch of injustice
When can he forget clothes pulled away
Or must he be reminded and never let it go

What more can that abuse infect
How many bottles were spent trying to protect
And years later to be sober and reflect
That no song about hands would ever be complete

For life's circumstance must not always fit to verse
There cannot be dance for tears and worse
Hands made me bare before I knew
And I have wished for sharing, perhaps with you

Could you understand the hands that tore into my innocence
Can I trust you not to cast doubt on each occurrence
Could you ever know the hurt that still resides
And makes me search for a song