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My miracle hand

Posted by Simon Parke, 22 March 2017, 5.28am

The miracle of my hand, I ponder it now - though not all hilarity and joy

This wondrous and many-boned claw able to close, tighten and clench - see?

And then able to open, I open it now, open hand, open-handed, feel the fingers stretch

Oh, and on occasion, acquainted with nails smashed through the soft palm

I know, believe me, for I am my hand

Sometimes clenched in survival, dead-grip clinging to some thing, any thing

And fist-like if circumstance demands - the bastards, self-defence, keep away

And then open, the open palm, like a stretch of white sand where horses gallop

Freedom fields touching eternity, dancing space like sunshine on the sea and quite without horizon

Though sometimes nailed, the agony burst, unconscious to all but the scream

And there’s no calm scream, just the rust and blood

This miracle hand, these different states, quite varied, I grant you

And down the years I’ve known them all, these different friends

And what is left I cherish

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