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| my hands, 9.4.2012 |
open flat in front of me
olive-tan on top, pink-ivory
on the palm
lines and veins traverse
the skin --
do they a story tell?
[these hands grip
steering wheels and drive,
bicycle handles and ride,
wheelbarrows and transport,
water jugs and lug,
canoe handles and carry,
laundry baskets, full, and
don’t forget
the firm handshake]
strong fingers
have moved keys
furiously
slowly, smoothly
keys of the flute
keys of the clicking keyboard
keys to pressure points –
the healing touch
touch of a sick child’s face,
forehead, temple
the warmth of the holding
of hands, the embrace,
the hands that wave
goodbye.
Copyright © 2012 Nan P.
[Written for We Write Poems -- write a poem focusing on our hands and what they do.]
8 comments:
First of all, I like the photograph. Such a difference in coloration between the palm and top of hand, isn't there? Especially in summer. You have written well the many roles of hands And I do definitely imagine you with a 'firm handshake.'
Fascinating poem. I love all the places you took your hands.
-- hands -- true extensions of our brains (both emotional and technical parts). Just think of ASL! From opposable thumbs to language...what incredible tools hands are. Gifts!!!
Like the focus this prompt has brought to hands. Yours cover a great deal of territory, and I like the diversity from driving, to laundry, to that soft touch of caregiving.
Elizabeth
http://soulsmusic.wordpress.com/2012/09/05/about-letting-go/
So wonderfully touching and true. I enjoyed it very much.
Busy, busy, busy...and yet they are a genteel extension of who and what we are. Thank you for your visit - I appreciate your kind words.
You have successful hands, because they are helpful hands, useful hands, loving hands and musical hands. I love the way you write about them.
I think we've only peeked through this door, and clearly, clearly, each of us has their few gems to contribute to what's greater than any one of us. I hope folks will want to revisit someday, cause I think we're gonna do just that.
The mundane becomes some element of magic, as it does right here. I especially enjoyed the second and third stanzas here - same reveal, yet a shift emotionally that I feel first more than consciously understand. Thus it goes to the fabric of our experience directly. Nice nice (he said it twice!) :)
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