Mine are the hands

A poem about self interest and envy

My eyes tend to wander After things out of reach, But it’s not what I’m making It’s about what I keep.

You say greed does no good I know hunger is worse, You fly the flag for the poor I have to feed myself first.

If I stay on my back You’ll say my downfall was due, Would I not have sunk faster If I’d listened to you?

Are you calling it hubris When you sit with your friends, Who would quickly forget you If you rose above them?

Will you join the protestors Rallying against wealth, Led by a shepherd Who wants it all for himself?

I’ll carry on as I do Do whatever you will, There are things I must have And things I must conceal.

I know your eyes will wander There will be things that you need, When mine are the hands That cover and feed.