Smell of man labored by the day, scented
Sweated wet and hunkish peers out
From deep sunk eyes marked at edge
With kindness lines broken at the rim
Where hurt has squeezed and teased
But never broken the manly touch of earth
Trodden hard by feet and settled
In the fingernails and cracks of skin
That make a hand a workman’s hand
Shaper of a world beyond despair
Ah yes, that smell that preens the self
With sense of purpose accomplished skill
Yet minded memory eludes the fast of lesser
Skill and comfort days burnt and bridled.
No matter what oppressors rod and scorch
Of mistrust’s reddened iron, resolve remains
And courage bent but never broken
Sees through the darkness what eludes
Peer of lesser eyes, and hardened heart
Energized by search for truth, what can it be
And where to find its germ of freedom sprout
Those labored hands will strike again
To break earth open until darkness spews the light
Never once did freedom come easy or love march
In straight and narrow gait. Rather like flames
Fire seen not caught or captured by single hand
It reaches to consume and cleanse
Purify a putrid form and melt the gold of life
Then fashion it to make the work complete
A rugged man that smells of earth can know
To sow that seed and work its germination
Pain mingles with hope made strong in each stroke
In every hour of labor hard and course
Man’s labor, God’s delight; God’s labor
Man’s unfrighted stare into creation’s day
Promise, curse, the molded clay
That earns the bread with breath as gift
And stubborn heart forgiven.
Midifo Yearns
http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/soiled-hands/
