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Poem
I lifted my hand,
With a purpose,
But moved it as if it was a magic wand,
It was in vacuum,
That I had moved it,
It was looking for purpose and sense,
And catch hold of some object,
It could not find one,
And dropped down limp,
My hand again moved out,
This time rather fast and alert,
A bright light was blinding,
And hands duly covered eyes,
Soon the light was moved elsewhere,
And the hands dropped down limp,
Now my stomach churned for food,
Mind ordered me to larder,
Hands opened it and rummaged this and that,
Finding the desired object caught it fast,
And guided it to mouth,
Hands worked for some time,
Before they fell back-limp again,
It was getting pretty hot,
So I got into shower,
Hands turned on water,
And scrubbed skin and hairs hard,
As I came out hand-dried,
Mind directed that I should choose clothes,
And put them on,
Hands moved again in action,
And dressed me up fully,
Now I was moving out on the road,
On the way to work,
Car said that it could be driven only by hands,
As my mind directed them on steering,
Hands reached out to open the office door once I was there,
And waived to friends in acknowledgement,
As hands pulled out a chair on my desk,
The moment I began work,
Hands collaborated pretty much more,
The day was ended,
And I returned home,
As I was busy so were my hands,
As I fell asleep,
The hands fell back limp,
In dreams I was fighting a boxing match,
Hands moved in dream and as well actually as I snored on,
They said the magician conjured tricks with sleight of hand,
As they clapped along,
We perhaps need not go far,
To know what is the real sleight of hand,
Ask a person, who has lost both his hands,
And he would say,
Magician no doubt has some sleight of hands,
But look at that “magician up above”,
Who has generously given everybody,
Their share of “his” sleight of hand,
but denied me the same.
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