The poem opens with a striking contradiction: the speaker holds "the world of a beggar" who is alone, even though a thousand people fill the street. Loneliness here isn't about empty space but about being unseen. The title, "Open handed," fits this image, since a beggar's open hand asks for something, while an open hand can also be a gesture of giving.
The second stanza turns to fear. The speaker admits to dreading, more each day, how the state answers the question of who must carry "the weight of the war." The poem doesn't say who that is, but the way the question hangs suggests ordinary people pay the price.
The last stanza moves into stranger, dreamlike images: a man "betrayed to the sea" in the name of security, then a odd wish to be godfather to a swan and to "steal a kiss of the night." The mood is uneasy and tender at once. After the cold public worries, the speaker reaches for something small, gentle, and private.