Like great fingers they stretched toward heaven, their peaks undoubting.
When the sleet pounded against the ground like tiny fists
Giant's hands closed round about you, shielding from storm.
Giant's Hands would lift you up and aid you in drinking Sun's deep rays.
Giant's Hands would steady you to feel Wind's embrace, breathtaking.
Giant's Hands would warm you in the hour of your shame.
And Giant's Hands would comfort you.
But Giant's Hands are buried now.
Rooted.
Bound.
No more lifting.
No more comfort.
And from Giant's Hands you must walk away.
