Red ochre hands are outlined on the cave's
Cold wall, this ancient art, five fingers out
As if to reach and grab our gaze, no doubt
To draw us back to sources our art craves.
White marble hands outstretched, more beautiful
Than all the artist's other works. Each one
Had loved the hands so much, a hammer won
An artist's whack to stop their awful pull.
Strong folded hands in prayer in centuries
Of sculptures, paintings, wisely decorating
Our temples, churches, facing mirrors mating
To bring us, asking God, far fewer worries.
And now these hands are bringing to these lands
This tapestry -- woof, weave from older strands.