Praying
Hands, c.1508, by Albrecht Dürer (1471 - 1528)
image credit: Albertina Museum, Vienna
Saturday, 12 February 2022
This is another ekphrasic poem inspired by Amanda Bell's poetry workshop on Art and Ekphrasis. This poem is my response to an image of hands and came to me during long hours of insomnia last night. As I typed it up this morning I marvelled at the similar qualities which hands and words possess. Hence, a poem that should have focused on hands alone took control and crossed the (metaphorical) boundary I .... or maybe it was my subconscious mind .... had set.
The beautiful pen and ink drawing by Albrecht Dürer is my favourite artistic depiction of hands of all time and, I believe, perfectly illustrates the sentiments I have tried to express in my poem.
Hands
Hands, some might say
are as vital a part of the
human body as words
are to a poem or story
Acting in tandem with
the brain like language
is a conduct of words,
hands are tools for doing,
touching, creating, cooking,
praying, caressing; like words
hands have the power to love,
hurt, express joy and sorrow
Different entities as a butterfly
is to a motor car, hands and words
share the capacity to give and
take away; the ability to make
and destroy; to plant a seed and,
when it's grown, pluck it from
the earth or the mind without a
its root, not caring that this will
make it die; hands like words
can be beautiful and ugly;
sometimes they're even both
at once; hands as well as words
are able to heal what is sick or
broken, both can wreck the thing
that once was whole; hands and
words can multi-task, cause war
and peace; demonstrate hate,
affection, disapproval or blessing;
hands can be frail and strong; like
words, they are the tools of writer,
creator, mother, father, murderer.
Neither can be independent from
the mind, whether sane or mad;
hands and words make us the
people we are. Without hands or
words we are nothing but empty
shells; driftwood on a beach
better off being from whence
we came; dust to dust, a phrase
that heavy in meaning will continue
to echo long after our hands and
body have become that dust
© Carola Huttmann, 12 February 2022
