finding hands

before I left I sewed my hands onto a cushion to always hold my beloveds head.

little did i know that it was a prophesy of what I would find up here

finding hands

ive become aware that in times past, my hands had been forgotten

in the loneliness

they gripped each other tightly

(some might call this wringing)

they found their way to my mouth where i gnawed, trimmed and fiddled.

as i hid

fingers tapped on keyboards

and searched for something to pick, or scratch or pull

they seemed most busy finding faults in my body

or pointing out all the injustice of the world.

against me of course.

joints clicked, nails broke. twas their only way of screaming out for help

and now.

if I was to draw myself. my hands would be massive.

or maybe there would be many many hands, some stroking, some wiping tears

some chopping.-food, generally 

I've remembered my hands, and how to use them.

they push me through water, they lift and pull.

one hand gets a splinter from climbing trees...the other relieves it of that pain

my hands create

they catch me and support me when i walk along ledges that seem to high.

they dig deep into the earth just at the right time, revealing my 100 year old self.

my hands have learnt to wave, as my mouth has learnt to smile

my hands can make the shape of an animal and mould fabric into perfect expressions of something.

like my heart.

they grip my bicycle handles, hard, on tough hills while my body pours with sweat

my hands can hold babies, and caress the faces of those I love

fingers can  interlock,

prayer, love, safety, a light reassurance

they sweep through leaves and catch frogs

they hold food, to give to friends

they grip books and turn pages

the point is, i now feel them, physically,

with me all the time. 

they can even frame the moon. :)

something i made with my hands