Your hand
your hand
fragile
replete with vitality
laced with veins and arteries
padded with springy muscle
elegant bones the support trusses
you own this hand
it will fold whichever way you dream
each digit an extension of your unconscious
this hand can beckon, halt, support, negate
lose balance and it steadies you
cry and it wipes your tears away
All you artists,
let your hands give something form
and watch them express
what you never knew was in you.
All you workers,
allow the tasks to fall into place
marvel at what
your hands have wrought.
All you parents
brush hair, wash faces
prepare dinner
caress the infant
whose first unconscious expression of love
is the grasping of your fingers
in his warm little hand.
We are alive
how wondrous we are
with such capacities.
we wreck, we pet.
We let our hands lead us
these finite tools
a hand’s breadth
a finger’s length
flushed with redness, with vigor
Are we really
made of such things?
Are we really made by them?
Fresh Hell 
This is a poem out of the ordinary. Both thought provoking and moving. Quite an interesting approach to the ages old question of what are we.
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You’re out of the ordinary! I’m taken aback because you summed up exactly what I was trying to express. But I didn’t really realize that’s the question I was asking… Did you ever just watch your hand move and wonder what on God’s green earth you are?
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Probably, but not recently. Might be a skill I’ve lost. I mean to look at something with such innocence.
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I’d lost mine too. I feel like a broken record always talking about meditation, but it gave me back my childlike wonder. I don’t feel it all the time anymore like I did when I was a kid, but it’s there occasionally, and I’m glad
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That’s wonderful. Perhaps I should get back into meditation. It did me some good back in the day.
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I proselytize it 100% 😀
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What kind of meditation do you perform? Do you try to concentrate on something, or just observe without clinging?
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I just try not to think. If you can get silence for a couple of seconds at a time, that’s a big win. It’s about just being and not judging any thoughts that pop up, then letting the thoughts rest and blanking out again.
Since I’m auditory I focus on a sound. If it’s quiet enough, the tinnitus in my head is great. If it’s not quiet then another nice steady sound like the crickets outside is great.
If you’re visual you might prefer to look at a seashell or flower or crystal or landscape, something pretty.
There’s an app called Headspace that gives you free introductory guided meditation. It’s cute.
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So I guess, to answer your question, a little of both
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Makes sense. Thanks!
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Lovely stuff and a brilliant last two lines to finish off the poem.
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Thank you! 🙂
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I’ll have to hand it to you, your handy-work here, is quite a hand-full, your words grab my imagination, and made me think about the world beyond the end of my finger tips. ….
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❤
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Oh I love this so much 🙂
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❤
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Looking at my hands in a new light.
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I love hands!
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Oh! I do too now. 😁
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Yay! My work here is done!!! 😉
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Your words always reach out dear. ☺️
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