Manos Sucias

*** This poem came to me in a span of about 20 minutes with very minimal editing, but I wanted to post it raw as soon as possible. Don't ask me why, but yeah. Hope you like it.***

Dirty Hands

I'm come before you today, with dirty hands, I got carried away by what I thought I loved, and lost.

Although I knew what I was doing, but I never knew what I was doing; the final result, the level of damage I caused, what I twisted and bent, what I lost.

I did not value your love, your compassion, your passion before that tree. I say that I love you, but here I am, and you there. I live, and you I lost.

*Dirty hands, worthy of iron. Wounding iron that pierces the veins.

Dirty hands, useful only for destruction. Useful only to sin.*

I can't imagine how it's possible, that even in the last moments, with the small amount of breath you have left, you can say, "Forgive them..."

You pray to your Father, plead to Him, for me? For those who nailed your body to that cross. To the ones causing your agony. You still say, "Forgive them"?

You say "Forgive them" to those hands that against you were lifted. You say "I love you" to the one who did not deserve love. You call the outsider "my people" and forgive those who continue to hurt you. "Forgive them"

"Forgive them..."

*Dirty hands, worthy of iron. Wounding iron that pierces the veins.

Dirty hands, useful only for destruction. Useful only to sin.*

Dirty hands cleanse, my God. Dirty hands, my dirty hands. Clean hands I now have, for your love cleans my soul.