Tuesday, February 23, 2010

On Hands

This morning the phone rang, I didn't recognize the number but something- the something that silently roars amidst conjoined hearts made me answer. "Hello", she said exhausted, and I knew it was bad news. I cupped my glass took a deep cleansing breath and lowered my lids for the blow. "He beat me up, again." In the moment, as my chest deflated, I was shamefully relieved; the lesser of two evils, I suppose. How bad could it be if she was able to call, I thought. Later, as my day went on I thought more deeply about the bruises we can't see, the ones which garner no sympathies, the ones that keep us awake at night into the day, and the scars they leave behind which never...never go away. Bruises that cross generations, miles and coasts and rest deeply in the gut's chasm.

I looked at my Yael Rose and flashes of the strong yet gentle hands that sweep hair from her eyes, light candles on birthday cakes, hands that tentatively, albeit tenaciously held the back of her bicycle on her very first ride; loving hands. I envision her enveloped by this membrane of peace and love, respect and fearlessness. I thought of art and music, paintings flashed through my mind's eye to the sound of violins singing. I thought of beautiful sculptures and historic monuments, I thought of all the wondrous creations of hands powered by love and couldn't factor in a single reason why anyone would willfully use these precious limbs for destruction. And, I thought some more, and I wondered, and I worried all day for both of them.



Peace and love

13 comments:

Execumama said...

I felt that. You went there and took me with you. I'm going to say thank you, even though I'm not sure whether that's appropriate. You told stories within stories, and as someone who has lived with the "bruises" of being close to a physically abused person, I sigh, I cringe, I pray, I worry, I ...

Ms. Bar B: said...

"the bruises we can't see, the ones which garner no sympathies, the ones that keep us awake at night into the day, and the scars they leave behind which never...never go away. Bruises that cross generations, miles and coasts and rest deeply in the gut's chasm."

Yes and sigh...

sara said...

thinking about you ...

Jennifer said...

All I can do is *sigh* and send my thoughts for them. I simply don't understand either, why someone would do such harm to another. I am so sorry.

High Desert Diva said...

Pulled me in that...

Beautifully written T.

mairedodd said...

'why' is right... and how does love become so convoluted? how do fear and anger win out... am only grateful she has such a friend...

Mary said...

sadly, it only takes a second to change a purpose or intent. i don't know the answer to bullying, meanness, beating or abusing...but i sure wish someone did....

Shannon said...

very powerful... yes, why would one use hands for abuse? I've wondered the same thing as I live with some of those bruises of which you speak. Thank God for the life I have now. He has answered my prayers of better days!

Jill said...

I wish I didn't feel the need to respond. To follow up such an intense and beautiful piece with my clumsy response is awkward, but I must. I must tell you that I will pray for her and for you.

MBB Founder and Editor Denene Millner said...

Have mercy...

For your friend.

For you.

And for the monster who would use the beauty of which you wrote to do something so ugly to another human being.

I hope and pray that things get better for your friend and that you have the strength to help her in the way she clearly needs to be helped—before it's too late.

Sherry said...

Your story took my breath away and I felt so much rage....and then sadness.

Losing in the City said...

i have to say i just discovered your blog and so glad i did.. you post was deeply moving.. my heart and prayers for you and for her.. putting your hands on someone is just never the answer and never ok..

fly tie said...

wow.

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