Сара Кей – Руки | Перевод для Slam Poetry

from New York please give a warm there pochi welcome to 18 year-old Sarah Kay [Applause] [Music] [Applause] [Music] 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 have been upset but they were far too many stuffed animals to hold too many homework assignments tried too many boys to wave at too many years to grow we used to have a game my dad and I about holding hands because 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 eight million 2753 hands learn more than minds do hands learn how to hold other hands had a grip pencils and mold poetry had a 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 there are the maps and compasses with which we navigate our way through life some people read palms to tell your future but I read hands to tell your past each scar marks a story worth telling each calloused palm each crack knuckle is a missed punch or years in a factory now I’ve seen middle-eastern hands clenched and Middle Eastern fists pounding against each other like war drums each country sees their fists as warriors and others as enemies even a 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 interlocked like a beautiful zipper of Prayer one time I grabbed my dad’s hand so that our fingers interlock perfectly but he changed positions saying no that hand hold is for your mom kids high-five but grown-up we learn how to shake hands you need a firm handshake but don’t hold on too tight but don’t let go too soon but to hold on for too long but can are not about politics when did it become so complicated I always thought it’s simple the other day my dad looked at my hands as if seeing them for the first time and with laughter behind his eyelids with all the seriousness a man of his humor could muster he said you know you’ve got nice hands you could have been a hand model and before the laughter can escape me I shake my head at him and squeeze his hand eight million 2,750 for [Applause]

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