The Loss of a Hand

The farmer

Lost his hand

It was

A dry hand

Used to days

Tending an

Orange grove

But it was




He didn’t

Just lose his hand

It was different

From what you and I

Imagine in our heads

It was as if

He had

Lost half of himself


He wasn’t able

To do his trade

He wasn’t able

To earn money

To do his job

The only thing

He learned how

To do in life

All broke away

From his




He will regrow a

New hand

From metal and plastic

But it won’t be

His old calloused hand

Used to orange groves

It will have to learn

A new trade

Since it is

A new hand

Half of oneself

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