I offer up my hands

If I offer up my hands
will you return them to me empty,
will you give me the smallest pebble of hope
so that when I curl my fingers
they close on more than emptiness?
will you give me a feather
or an empty robins egg,
dreams of sky to fill my hands?
if my hands tremble
will you still them with a song
sung into my palms
so that I might hear
through the movement of your lips?
will you give me driftwood
when my hands overflow with need,
a new tide to carry away
discarded desire?
if I offer up my hands
will you accept them?