Into Our Hands Valentine

Our lives are trembling hands
Placed into the wounds of the world
But proof's not necessarily belief
Where no proof's needed
Evidence of torture and murder
But the killer goes uncaught
And the body we examine
With tentative fingers
Feels like touching stone
That is still suffering
Its dissolution into light and air
As if the dying would go on and on
The crime unsolved
Until the wounds release the hand
And place it on the beating heart