My friend sent me a poem yesterday. I read it before I went to bed and decided that this would be something special to share in the morning…the twelfth month, the twelfth day of 2012. It brought to mind the series of photographs I took two summers ago, a series titled, My Mother’s Hands.
It also reminded me of music, for some reason…and about recognizing a couple of musicians who have recently passed away, Dave Brubeck and Ravi Shanker. I am in deep gratitude for the music that they created. God gave us hands to create. God gave us hands to bless the world. May your hands do good for others today.
I brought Prince Edward Island sand back to my mother in Ontario…this is the photograph that I took that day.
In Praise of Hands
It’s not just the people
who live in the city
who’ve lost the thread
that ties them to the woven
world of stones and earth,
fields alive with pollen and wings.
Who among us understands
how oceans rise and fall,
currents swirling around the planet
with messages in bottles
floating on the water.
When the tide is out
we can go to the shore
dig clay with our bare hands
and make something beautiful from it,
a vessel with thin walls
that holds a canyon.
In both hands, like an offering,
we can hold the memory
of eroded stones and earth,
eons contained in this empty bowl.
We can fill it with water
that reflects the sky that has
witnessed everything since
time began, we can drink and be blessed,
clouds gathering over us.
“In Praise of Hands” by Stuart Kestenbaum, from Prayers & Run-on Sentences