What these hands know.
tired, humiliated hands
October 2023 Newsletter—
Today I have a poem for you that came to me as I was integrating my desire, and subsequent fear, of working in new ways.
I received a vision of tired, humiliated hands. Tense, scared 16 years old hands.
Once, they were mine.
Alone and on display, they held a fallen sand castle, willing it to stand.
On loop I scooped the sludge up from the base, sliding it up to the top like a potter might. I pushed and clung, fingers spread wide, palms pressed towards the center.
I was doing it all right, just like I was supposed to. Still, the sand always found its way to the ground, splattering on the floor.
I’d try harder. I had to.
Sometimes it stuck… but not for long. The more it slipped between my fingers, the less I could stop.
With young hands vigilant and exhausted, I let my cowardly eyes scan the room. Behind a smile, I was begging for relief. A crowd encircled me– I knew their hands were able.
None of them reached towards me.
I lacquered myself in a confident competence. 16 more years, I continued in this way.
On display, those tired, humiliated hands learned to position themselves just right. Playing the game and winning.
My eyes no longer scanned for help. They were glazed over, and still, they glistened. They told the story they wanted to be true. Lots of people believed it– me too.
I wanted this.
I like this.
I chose this.
I’ve got this.
Convincing hands can’t sway those with hearts attuned to what's real. They know the difference. These are the ones who held me with the blueprint of friendship. They encircled me. They propped up my castle so I could rest.
Unafraid of me, they expected nothing in return.
My weary, dazzling hands finally came to a hollow stillness. Void of instinct.
When I asked them what they wanted, they hadn’t a clue.
I envisioned them full of life, what I’d always thought they should be. I imagined them dancing, free to be flowing with music. And happy– but these hands… these tired, humiliated hands… they wouldn’t budge.
“No,” they said, “I will not perform for you.”
So I told them I’d be here in silence, in stillness. Even if it took a thousand years.
Even if it took a thousand years, or a thousand more, it would be worth it all to hear their Truth.
Let it be Easy, Guardian the Good, Live your Liberation
xo-Madison
