Sarah Kay – Hands

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=pn0zAUVkCgEds

People used to tell me that I had beautiful hands. Told me so often in fact that one day I started to believe them, until I asked my photographer father ‘hey daddy could I be a hand model? To which he said ‘No way!’. I don’t remember the reason he gave me, and I would’ve been upset but there were far too many stuffed animals to hold, too many homework assignments to write, too many boys to wave at to, many years to grow. We used to have a game, my dad and I, about holding hands. Coz we held hands everywhere. And every time either he or I would whisper a great big number to the other, pretending that we were keeping track of how many times we had held hands. That we were sure this one had to be 8,002, 753. Hands learn more than minds do. Hands learn how to hold other hands. How to grip pencils and mould poetry. How to tickle pianos, and dribble a basketball and grip the handles of a bicycle. How to hold old people and touch babies. I love hands like I love people. They are the maps and compasses with which we navigate our way through life. Some people read palms to tell you your future, but I read hands to tell your past. Each scar makes a story worth telling. Each callused palm, each cracked knuckle is a missed punch or years in a factory.

Now I’ve seen middle eastern hands clenched in middle eastern fists, pounding against each other like war drums. Each country sees their fists as warriors and others as enemies. Even if fists alone are only hands. But this is not about politics, no hands are not about politics. This is a poem about love, and fingers. Fingers interlock like a beautiful zipper of prayer. One time I grabbed my dad’s hand so that our fingers interlocked perfectly. But he changed position saying “No, that hand hold is for your mum!” Kids high-five, but grownups shake hands. You need a firm handshake, but don’t hold on too tight, but don’t let go too soon, but don’t hold them for too long. But hands are not about politics. When did it become so complicated? I always thought it was so simple. The other day my Dad looked at my hands as if seeing them for the first time and with laughter behind his eyelids, and with all the seriousness a man of his humour could muster he said “You know you’ve got nice hands, you could’ve been a hand model!” And before the laughter can escape me I shake my head at him and squeeze his hand 8,002,754.

Sarah Kay demonstrates a beautiful understanding of how hands are the gateway of learning and understanding one’s past, and how hands play a crucial part in love and accepting others. When I first read this poem, I thought Sarah was talking about how she and her dad play a game of hand holding and that it was their own little way of showing love to each other. That really connected with me when I first read it because I do the exact same with my dad, and the hand holding is truly a way we express our love towards each other. However, I kept reading this poem a few more times, and I realized that when Sarah spoke of her dad, she didn’t mean for it to be the main message, her main message was how hands allow you to connect and love others. When she spoke of her father she was merely giving an example of how hands allow you to show your love to others, and I only realized this after I read the poem maybe 7-8 times.

The speaker uses a lot of facts in her poem, and it is not a very opinionated piece of writing. She states facts about how hands are used to “hold other hands…grip pencils…mould poetry…tickle pianos…dribble basketballs…and grip the handles of a bicycle.” These are all facts of what hands are expected to do, but what we don’t understand as human beings is that the importance and depth hands have in creating connections between individuals.

During the poem, the speaker states, “Now I’ve seen middle eastern hands clenched in middle eastern fists, pounding against each other like war drums.” The speaker uses a simile to describe how people use hands as a form of violence and hatred, and she uses this to explain that hands should never be used for such a thing. Hands are for loving, and for showing who you truly are. Hands shouldn’t be clenched into fists, and in the poem Sarah states, ” But this is not about politics, no hands are not about politics.” Clenched fists mean warriors or enemies, and that implies war, which is always caused through politics nowadays. Sarah brings this new perspective to the poem because she’s trying to get her point across, which is that Hands are about love, and her main theme in this poem is love and how hands show unconditional love.

In the poem, the speaker states, “…maps and compasses with which we navigate our way through life.” Sarah is metaphorically stating that the power of hands is so extreme that it is what leads us through life. Often times, as I was growing up, I always heard the phrase, “through the eyes you can tell the amount of pain and experience ones been through.” This phrase never made sense to me, it didn’t click in my head how people could see the pain or experience just by looking through someone else’s eyes. It confused me greatly, and I always thought I was weird because people around me all understood it. I got that “aha” moment about hands that people got about the eyes.

After reading this poem, I have got to say that it is actually the hands in which tells you ones past.   For example, if one has calloused hands, you can infer that one may play a musical instrument such as the guitar, or maybe the person likes to write a lot. You can draw conclusions about someone through their hands, and some conclusions may not be true, but you can tell a lot through the way ones hand feels or looks. The person may have scars on their hands and that tells you that maybe they were in the military, or maybe it was a punch, a stupid accident, or some traumatic experience.

While reading the poem, I never really got an atmosphere or tone in my head. To me it was just a bunch of beautifully written words, and I thought that I wouldn’t be able to understand the perspective Sarah sees this poem from. However, I found a video of Sarah presenting this poem, and after I watched it the tone and atmosphere I got was friendly. The speaker’s tone was friendly, and when she spoke her poem, she was very convincing. It was almost as if she wanted you to visually picture what she was saying, and she wanted you to fully understand her perspective on hands. The speaker shows us that the significance of hands is that we learn and explore people through looking and feeling ones hands, and as she says in the poem, they’re the “compasses” of our lives.

Through this poem I have found a new respect for hands. I can now relate to what people feel and mean when they say they can tell the pain and experience through someone’s eyes. We may say that a person’s eyes shows us the past of someone, however it is the art of hands that shows us the depth, and clarity of one’s experience.