Not Skinning the Cat Was Also a Choice

They can be clenched tightly 

or firmly straightened

to strike with force

and intimidation

against the face

of someone feared

or someone loved;

a stranger, a date,

a child, a spouse

But they can also 

reach to lift one

who has fallen,

or been kicked,

to the ground

They can cock the hammer,

steady the barrel,

and pull the trigger,

carnage fall where it may

Yet they can wrap

another tightly in 

a warm and loving embrace

They can slit a throat

(or pay to have it done)

for a bleating, bloody slice

on a death-filled dinner plate

Or they can pry 

(or pay to have it done)

beans from their oblong pods

They can hold a beer

and a steering wheel 

at the same time

They can pick a banjo,

mold shapes out of clay

They can work the soil,

reclaim the earth

They can bring food

as an offering

to a hungry belly

They can click a keyboard

or hold a pencil, 

or a protest sign,

in the fight against injustice

or they can cover eyes

and pretend it isn’t there

They can build,

they can tear down

They can bring forth 

compassion or destruction

If all else fails,

they can quietly 

twiddle their thumbs

There is always a choice

how we use our hands

Written May 21, 2020