The Tenacity of Working Hands

In the dim light of dawn, they rise.

Not soldiers of war, but soldiers of labor.

With hands calloused and strong,

They grip the tools that forge the world.

The wrench that tightens, the plow that turns,

The spatula that nourishes, the broom that cleans.

They toil in factories where the machines never rest.

As well as the fields, where the earth bends to their will,

They stand in the kitchens, where the fires burn day and night;

and even in corridors, where the shine is worn into the floor.

They are the seldomly seen. Often, the unthanked.

These are the people, whose hands that keep the world turning.

Yet, are ranked in a status below those who're profiting.

These peoples hands build the towers that touch the sky.

Yet they live in the shadows cast below.

These peoples hands harvest the food that fills our tables,

Yet they eat only the crumbs that are left behind.

These peoples hands repair the engines that drive our lives.

Yet they are worn and weary, while others grow fat on the fruits of their labor.

Listen closely, and you will hear,

Their rumblings of discontent beneath the surface.

The murmur of voices rising in unison.

For they know the truth, buried in the dirt and the grease.

The wealth of all nations are built on their backs.

Though, they are denied the dignity they deserve.

So they march, not in silence but in defiance.

With every swing of the hammer, a call for justice,

With every turn of the wrench, a demand for respect,

For the world they build belongs to them,

And they must not be silenced any longer.

Here's to the workers. The true backbone of this world.

To the industrial workers who sweat in the factories.

To the mechanics who keep the engines running.

To the farmers who feed our households with their hands.

To the cooks who keep our bodies sufficiently fed.

To the janitors who keep our spaces clean and right.

To the utility workers who keep our lights burning bright.

May your endeavors be fierce and unrelenting.

May your worth be known and recognized.

May the fruits of your labor return to you.

The rightful builders of this earth.

For it is your hands that shape the future.

Your sweat that fuels the force of progress.

For without you, the world would fall into darkness.

May the walls of oppression crack and crumble,

May the chains of exploitation shatter and fall,

And may the world you’ve built with your hands

Finally belong to you.

Not in token gestures or empty promises,

But in true equality and justice.

To the laborers!

May your strength never fail.

May your victories be swift and just.

May the dawn of a new era approach us.

May it rise on the backs of those who truly built it.

Cheers!