Hands

From the sea came a hand,

ignorant as a penny,

troubled with the salt of its mother,

mute with the silence of the fishes,

quick with the altars of the tides,

and God reached out of His mouth

and called it man.

Up came the other hand

and God called it woman.

The hands applauded.

And this was no sin.

It was as it was meant to be.

I see them roaming the streets:

Levi complaining about his mattress,

Sarah studying a beetle,

Mandrake holding his coffee mug,

Sally playing the drum at a football game,

John closing the eyes of the dying woman,

and some who are in prison,

even the prison of their bodies,

as Christ was prisoned in His body

until the triumph came.

Unwind hands,

you angel webs,

unwind like the coil of a jumping jack,

cup together and let yourselves fill up with sun

and applaud, world,

applaud.

Anne Sexton