Wednesday, June 24, 2009

Poem Inspired by Bodies The Exhibition

Those Loving Hands

Those loving hands stripped down

To the solid white bone

With thousands of strings making loving connections

Without them where would I be?

 

The soft loving hands that carefully cradled

My head in my first moments of life

The loving hands that guided me with my first steps

How could they be the same hands pinned under the museum glass?

 

With a gentle caress they mopped the fever from my brow

The underlying sinewy stuff underneath reached for a band-aid

And gently applied it to  many a scraped knee

How could that skeletal frame so lovingly wipe the tears  from my eyes?

 

Those loving hands have swirled thousands of peanut butter sandwiches.

They have been  the sculptors of triple layer chocolate masterpieces.

And they have authored the encouragement that lifted me to new heights.

How could science dissect the meaning of that?

 

The dissected hand under the glass has guided me every step of the way.

When I meet her at the airport today and feel her embrace,

I don’t see the bundled wire of muscle and logic of cold science.

I feel the warmth and spiritual connection that shall never cease.

 

No comments:

Post a Comment