secondhand

What of the third and fourth and fifth hand things? Where is there space for a body like me? The not yet worn out, but handled so much. Shifting through hands like sands through the sifter, shaker, onto the top of the pile...again. What is the true difference? Between all the hands that handled me before, barely tolerated and never genuinely welcomed, and the future hands I dream of? Hands to hold, hands like home, hands caress. Or hands I've met? Heavy handed, hands which hit, hands that grab. You must wonder how I still could hope and think of healing, loving hands. I do as well.