These Hands

I see life stolen.
But yet I wait.
As I untouched,
pursue my fate.
Barbary.

The end of lives
seems not to die,
seized by hands
that are enshrined.
Barbary.

I cannot wait
for life is precious.
I see it stolen,
yet here I sit.
Barbary.

Yet here I sit
Barbary!
Yet here I sit
Barbary!

LORD forgive me,
for my voice speaks not
against this buttress that holds me.
For to speak is to lose
and to stand is to fall.

So here I sit
Barbary!
So here I sit
Barbary!

LORD forgive me
for a heart that does not break for death,
for hands that do not strain for justice,
and so keeping the power
and holding it tight.

Then I look, I look and see.
Are these the hands,
that are enshrined?
I see their guilt that is in mine
I try to flee, but they’re part of me

These hands
These hands
And look at me
And more and more I see

Not just my hands
but everywhere, I bear the sign
and wear the guilt.
And it feels so good.

Barbary, LORD, barbary!
Help me to fight
my selfish security
that keeps my hands enshrined.

These sentences scare,
because to help is to lose.
But your justice must reign,
and those you love need judgment.

For these hands bear guiltless guilt,
hidden for all to see,
purity impure.
White.