2014 :: Beirut, Tripoli
Written after the funural ceremonies for our beloved and assassinated Mohammad Shattah.
Farewell by thousand hands
They came. Hands. Clammy, dry, fleshy, cold, warm hands. Hot, stiff, wishy-washy, buckled and straight hands.
Hands like from paper, like a rasp, like a feather, like a hammer, like a gripper, like a cave, like a plank or like a pillow.
Hands which cut, which are soft, which dance on pianos, which give life, which take life, which are strong, which look aside, which look at something, which look into something, and which go in between.
Hands, which grip to early, which do not grip properly, which want to help, which dive into the other hand, which invite for a talk, and hands, which simply fit.
Hands made of bones, bowstrings, veins, water, glow, aspen leaves, and rose blossoms.
Hands of fear and confidence.
Hands, which nearly break, and those, who won’t be misled.
Thereby are fingers. Little fingers, long fingers, slim fingers, noble fingers, precious fingers, missing fingers, half fingers, stoop fingers and stiff fingers.
Fingers without joints, fingers made only from joints. Fingers full of thoughts.
Hands tentative, lost, irritated, yearning, loving, demanding, dominating, directing, rejecting, pointing, halfhearted, trespassing, prayerful, devout, calm, caressing, straight, powerful and weak at a time.
Healing hands.
Hands from wrinkles, from wood, from velvet, from silk, from wool, from soil, from weals, from teardrops, and from light.
One hand is made of plastics and is represented by the other hand.
Searching and asking hands. Hands, which listen during the contact, and hands, which are absent during the contact. Hands, which come in pairs.
Another hand is made of plastics. This time it’s the other hand, the hidden one.
Benevolent and grantig hands. Tentative, catching into space, screaming loudly, whispering quietly, greedy, insatiable, crying and laughing.
Hands which give solace, which cuddle, which lead, which control, which touch us and which hug us.
Hands from lions, tigers, elephants, horses, gazelles, cats, mice, snakes, eagles, sparrows and larks.
Hands from priests and generals, from executives and workers, from doctors and farmers, from builders and architects, from engineers and bankers, from tailors and masters, from murderers and deads, from beggars and presidents, from lonesomes and lost ones, from brave ones and freemen, from teachers and students, from sisters and brothers, from parents, children and children’s children.
Hands, reflecting the past, the present and the future.
My hands.
Your hands are the ones, which were missing.
