My hand ……
is a miracle. Coordinating thoughts- putting words on this paper by holding the pen while the thoughts float easily. How? My thoughts are mine. I know. However what if it is put in my an external force? What if it is governed by an unseen agent? Seems laughable? Maybe. We have those weird laughable thoughts from time to time. It happens.
So back to my hand. What about it? I recently watched a movie that had an artist developing ‘alien hand syndrome’. They were trying to make it funny but it was scarcely laughable.
Focus. Focus! The hand! Why is my attention drifting? Maybe it is something to do with the weather. It is hot and the sun is shining brightly – too brightly. I put my hand to block the sunlight and I see the red in the white. The brightness brings with it the beauty and the reality of my hand. My hand is a beauty. But it is useful and that’s what makes me feel better and worthy.
Afternoon shifts to dusk and my hands drift to the pots and pans. The evening meal is made and conversations lengthen till the moths lessen the light of the bulb. Inside its hot by my hand switches to the table fan. The air isn’t cool but is air nevertheless,
My hands swat away the moths. That’s when I notice the gnarled firmness. Roots of despair strike me. Is it my hand or a figment of imagination?