The Hand by Amado Hernandez Observe carefully our world: fields, factories, streets, statues, earth, sea, sky have been dominated by the hands of men, which can move mountains. I too trained my hands for expert work, to prepare for the hard days ahead; how ugly my words woven in silk, compared to the hands of the worker mining gold. My hands, oh dearest love, were like flowers, clean and fragrant; and when I am ill or in danger, the touch of your hand is healing balm. And all the while the hands of the clock, point to the prophetic mouth: “Man, all of you will meet the end decreed by this—time’s hand.”