my hand is a graceful swan with beauty and magic in it’s fingertips
it is connected to my arm
What it does, 5 things
strokes my dog
kneads pizza dough
types at 90 wpm
steers a car steering wheel
applies color to my hair when I do my roots
Things it has witnessed
Holding my dog when I brought him back to life with mouth to snout
Pressed on a man’s chest to start his heart again on the millinium bridge in London where he had collapsed with a heart attack and his heart had stopped. No one would stop. - he survived
Stroking my father’s head as he lay dying in The hospital room at the hospital that gave me my scholarship for college
Nelson Mandela shaking my grandmother’s hands in his as MY HANDS held her wheel chair
Shook Charlton Heston’s hand
hand hugged Olivia Colman and handed her Pendleton
WHAT HAS MY HAND HELD OR HELD ONTO
my brown leather satchel
My dog ‘s leash
My tea cup
the cooking tray
my mother’s hands
WHAT MY HAND HAS LET GO OF
MY FATHER’S HAND WHEN DYING
MY GRANDFATHER’S HAND AFTER HE DIED
MY DOG DEXTER WHEN I HAD TO GIVE HIM TO THE VET
my wedding ring after I was betrayed by my husband and how sad my hand was to let it go
HAND CREATED
PIZZA
A BEATUFIL BIRTHDAY CARD BOOK
MY WORK VIA WRITING OR ON THE COMPUTER, LOTS OF WORDS
WHAT BELIEF SYSTEM NEEDS TO BE KILLED OFF
The caretaker.
I always has to please everyone and make them happy
I am the happy girl, mother’s good girl
The one who will sacrifice happily to make someone feel better
No one is explicit
Mother never says “be happy”,
Mother says, instead Be nice to your brother, he is special
That means I am is not?
Father says, “You’re my good girl, You never complain”
I am eating a peanut butter sandwich with him at a diner and the bread is stale
I said it was good and eat it. He knew it was stale.
I am his good girl.
So happy to have his approval, I will never complain
And my brother, he says, “I’m bigger than you, you have to
watch the shows I want, I can break your toys and get you
in trouble, but I will deny it all –
This makes me sad, I want my brother to love me
as I love him so I go on my campaign to win him over
I use all my babysitting money when I get older to buy him a chemistry set he wanted…
and never uses
Books on Greeks and Romans, which he reads – but he doesn’t thank me
My father doesn’t see this – we are pals and do things
like go to movies and dodger games
Things my brother disdains.
My mother doesn’t see this because my brother is perfect and brilliant
and a star
I won’t complain because it gets me in trouble
Better to bend over backwards to make him happy
and to win my mother’s approval
On and on this will go through high school, college
and going out into the world and finally I meet a man
and marry him….and by this time I am trained -
I can back flip – do a double somersault and
anything else to make him happy
Only it doesn’t work…
and we fail, fail big…
Just couldn’t win his love…
I’ll try harder next time….
And in between the next time man – I try to still
make my broher happy – ain’t happening
Ah, and there he is…mr. next time…
only he really doesn’t want to be happy either
and not happy like idiotically happy but
content, connected a pair…
Mr. Next Time fails too…
Brother fails some more…
Keep on backflipping I say to myself.
One more time into the breach with
Mr. Next One after the last one…
and it happens…
As I tip my cap to my brother during a visit
I say “Adios” I am gone and I stop in shock
because I mean it…
I can’t help it that I was born and that pissed him
off - just like I couldn't make the other men into
something they weren’t…
I could stop trying…
I could let the pleaser go…stop trying
just being instead
Being kind and present and thoughtful, but not
trying to “fix” someone – I have to be enough
The nice little girl in the squirrel dress can rest now
she doesn’t have to give away her toys, or eat a stale
sandwich or backflip
She can breath and have some peace
And I can give up my caretaker baggage for Lent
and leave it on the curb
VOICE
The plastic surgeon told me – tell your doctor to use
a number 4 blade and no stitches – and glue the incision
When I see my lovely surgeon, Mitch Karlan, I think how lucky I am
I am going to be one his last surgeries as he is retiring
He is known by all the doctors as the man with the hands –
the only person you wanted cutting your throat open
…and boy he was…
Years later as I sit at my vanity and put on make – up
to go meet a friend in the West End I look and have
to look hard for you…
That thin line across the bottom of my throat - you are there –
just above the collarbone but barely,
thanks to the #4 blade and the glued incision
At the time Dr Karlan cut my throat open to remove
the tumor in my throat and take out my thyroid
I was very pragmatic and didn’t think at all about cancer or
problems..
what if the blade and glue don’t work and I
come out of the operation looking like
Elsa Lanchester in “The Bride Of Frankenstein”
No I had faith in Dr. Karlan and assumed all would be fine
Never worried that he would cut my vocal chords
or nick my parathyroid - he would save my voice
All would be well , I was certain
Actually at the time of the surgery no one thought
the tumor would be cancerous…so the scar
was my only real concern – not my losing my voice
Just the scar….ah
I see you now – in the mirror, very faintly and I think
if I didn’t have you I would be dead
if I didn’t have you all the travels and new friends and dogs
and experiences, things I’ve written and performed, songs
I’ve sung, meals I’ve made and shared….
If not for you scar….there would have been no more travels,
new friends, dogs, experiences meals – nothing
You saved me by letting Dr. K remove the cancerous
tumor that was still encapsulated and that saved my life
Because that tumor was cancerous and lethal
I never thought about scars much until you
You are my reminder of how damn lucky I was
How grateful I am…
You let me know that every breath I take is because of you
and every breath is a gift
Sunrises and sunsets and walks in the park and visiting the
tiger in the tree and standing on the bridge to
watch the song boat glide past the red pagoda restaurant
and slip underneath the bridge as the musician sings
a song from Joni Mitchell
meeting friends, having video phone calls
being inspired in the middle of the night with an idea
that I have to jot down on the pad next to me
or lyrics for a song that suddenly come to life
or watching some adorable child or old person or
young people in love out on the street or in the bus or park
All of this I wouldn’t experience because I wouldn't have survived
Scar, you are so beautiful, though barely visible…
You came into my life to give me more time
And yes, everyday above ground, no matter what
is a great day… and so far you have gifted me about 6,935 days
What a lucky , gorgeous perfect scar…
and I don’t look like Elsa Lanchester
I have my life and my voice and I will never stop using it
Your hand is gifted at doing so many things, and so are the mind and heart connected to it.