Shadows of my hands

Worked on a corner of Hands of Time
over the weekend...

"When I fall asleep
my hands leave me.

They pick up pens
and draw creatures
with five feathers
on each wing.

The creatures multiply.
They say: "We are large
like your father's

They say: "We have
your mother's

I speak to them:
"If you are hands,
why don't you

And the wings beat
the air, clapping.
They fly

high above elbows
and wrists.
They open windows
and leave

They perch in treetops
and hide under bushes

their nails. "Hands,"
I call them.
But it is fall

and all creatures
with wings
prepare to fly

When I sleep
the shadows of my hands
come to me.

They are softer than feathers
and warm as creatures
who have been close
to the sun.

They say: "We are the giver,"
and tell of oranges
growing on trees.

They say: "We are the vessel,"
and tell of journeys
through water.

They say: "We are the cup."

And I stir in my sleep.
Hands pull triggers
and cut
trees. But

the shadows of my hands
tuck their heads
under wings
for morning,

when I will wake

three strands of hair
into one."

(Siv Cedering: Hands)


Gunnels blog hat gesagt…

your art are so Wonderful! You inspire me a lot! I am glad I found your flickr and the blog, and I will return, I have so much to watch! Thank you for sharing !!!

ArtSparker hat gesagt…

The poem seems to go with the visual wingbeats/flutterings of the piece you are working on

jude hat gesagt…

everything here is always peaceful. what wonderful pairing of hands and cloth.

ger hat gesagt…

Thank you, Gunnel...
Visual wingbeats, that´s a nice term, Susan...
Have to make it look peaceful, Jude - it´s a remedy for restlessness and spite, after all :)

ever jeanne hat gesagt…

nice. very nice. i so have a thing for hands.

ger hat gesagt…

...what would we be without them...