Seven Ways of Looking at Hands

Seven Ways of Looking at Hands

I know I would be nowhere

with no hands, no lifelines to reveal

futures, life’s expressions invisible

No incredible, articulate movements.

Essential, responsible, hands matter

Men, women, children, babies

rejoice when hands hold, caress and direct an orchestra,

drive cars, buses, trains; fly helicopters and planes.

Hands – a pair with eight fingers, two thumbs

to adorn with jewels to signify status

Act as an invitation; as an exit strategy

are diamonds really a girl’s best friend?

How is it that hands are enclosed

In a 'protective' skin

So as to keep out evil

And let good in

Oh but hands can slap, punch and kill

Swear and curse with such dramatic appeal

that ‘war’ is the outcome; 

Peace the calm after the storm.

The artist, the pianist, the writer

The musician, the singer, the dancer

Would turn mad, bad and dangerous to know

Without their hands, they’d have no place to go.

Hands are perfect; each finger print unique

to keep a trace; a pattern

There is no escape

If you’ve abused their powers.

(16th poem for NaPoWriMo)