It is alarming to sit in a chair,
\ncup your hands and ask,
\nwhat are my fingers holding?
\nEmpty air?
\nThe gesture of a beggar?
\nExpectation?
\nWhat I am holding are pictures,
\nvoices from caves and houses,
\nthe resonance of the world\u2019s beginning,
\na wave that forgot the others
\nand fell to the bottom of the sea,
\na memory,
\nunrecorded cherries,
\nchildren,
\na life ending.
\nAll there in my hands.
\nIn the cup formed by my starving fingers.
\nMy hands asking to be fed,
\nto see the lilacs of another age,
\nthe journey of a ship lost in storms.<\/p>\n
Perhaps someone will invent the machine
\nthat shows all the messages,
\nTV pictures,
\nlost lives,
\nvoices from a thousand radios,
\nangels visiting
\nand stroking our hair,
\ntrying to tell us,
\nwe are loved,
\nnot hated,
\npitied,
\nnot envied.
\nChildren who live in a dream,
\nall there in the cup of my hands,
\nsitting in a chair,
\nwondering at the hunger inside me
\nthat never leaves,
\nand wishing,
\nI were not an old man
\nlost in childhood.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"
It is alarming to sit in a chair, cup your hands and ask, what are my fingers holding? Empty air? The gesture of a beggar?…<\/p>\n