By: Shannon Bowen

Many different hands, some wrinkled, some smooth, some large, and some small.

To whom do these hands belong?

Many people do not know.

They seem to make an appearance from the shadows of the world, to seek out refuge.

Then return to their corner of the world out of sight.

These hands belong to the lonely.

Many people are blind to their presence.

They are unable to see the dignity of the person.

These hands reach out with a silent plea.

Hands searching not to be filled, just to be acknowledged.

Many eyes give them a glance, and ask to whom do these hands belong?

Those who acknowledge them recognize their dignity.

These communities put on their aprons, prepare loaves of bread, and pour cups of coffee,

All the while keeping in mind the souls they serve.

The lonely hands are nourished here; giving them a sense of dignity.

There are many different hands that reach out

Some wrinkled, some smooth, some large, some small.

To whom do these hands belong?

These are the hands of the poor, the lonely, and the forgotten ones.

They reach out and give back with hands of gratitude.