Magazine, website & books written by teens since 1989

These Hands

These hands
Do not belong to me
Attached to them lie my wrists
But the hands I do not command
My eyes see him
The boy
My boy
And my back straightens, stiffens
His eyes, wary, brown
Find mine
Shocking, blue
The fingers of the hand curl and straighten, curl and straighten,
The hand whose commander is unknown
A voice without a face, a face without a name, a name without an identity
Broken
And yet whole
Disconnected
But still attached
My lips part
And air rushes out
They move
Forming sounds
Words
His eyes change
The wary morphing to frightened
The fingers begin to stir
Stretching
Flying
Dancing
My legs straighten
I stand
My arms
Stretch
Reaching, grasping
And the hands follow
Follow without my command
They are not mine to control
Not mine to stop
But I do not want them to cease
Though uninvited I welcome them
For now
The fingers flutter
Towards the boy
Towards my boy
Pulling my arm along
He isn’t frightened
He is terrified
Panic chases fear in the brown chocolate eyes
Round and round in circles they fly
Dancing they fly, they fall, and fly and fall
Those shameless hands they do
His mouth, it opens
But who is to hear?
I?
No, not I
I shall not hear, I shall not see
The fingers stretch and grasp
I do not look at what they hold
Only at him
Him
The boy
My boy
My muscles contract and my lips turn upward
A smile
A savage ruthless smile
He doesn’t move
Doesn’t run, doesn’t scream
He knows better
He only stands
Watching
Waiting
Fists balled at his sides
The panic in his eyes pouncing upon the fear
Leaving a bone tired dread in its place
I take a step
And the world falls away

The candle
Was so tall
A pillar of light in the darkened room
Now
The lies but a stump of flickering flame
And melted wax
Casting shadows
Elongating shapes
Illuminating the blood
Our shadows flickered on the wall
Flickered as I cut him
Flickered as his blood I drew
They flickered as the hands made fists and those fists connected with his flesh
His muscle
His bone
Still I did not stop them
Did not find their commander
His lips parted
Moved
But I could not hear
I did not want to hear
For that moment my ears would not function
And that moment grew
As the candle dwindled and its light fell
As his eyes grew softer
Weaker
Now the floor he lays
Unmoving
Bleeding
My knees buckle and I fall
My eyes wander
Reel
In my skull
I look at him
The boy
My boy
My son
I look at my hands
I have found their commander
What have I done?

(c)



Join the Discussion


This article has 1 comment. Post your own!

writer3499 said...
Jul. 16, 2012 at 9:26 am:
Wow that was one of the best poems I have ever read.  The ending was intense and it was frightenting but beautiful.  
 
Reply to this comment Post a new comment
 
Site Feedback