I grab onto the hands of an artist
Hands that create life and bring meaning
What the eyes see, the neocortex processes and delivered by these hands
Leaving people in a strand.
Notice the roughness in the texture of the palms
Vivid colours of the bruises on the arms
Shows hard work and dedication,
As opposed to artistic deprivation.
I see scars on the back of your hands
Each with a story to tell
Some dark, some pretty,
Some for all the fights you lost but never fell.
I dig dipper
From the flash, through the veins, straight to your soul
Trying to find the root of your scars
Only to find – they are just a reflection of what’s inside.
But instead of me seeing the beauty within
I see the scars as pain and sorrow
Instead of me seeing hope for the morrow
I see prolific work by the fiend.
Melanin on your flash is like ink to a virgin canvas
These are rough, scarred hands with a gentle touch
Producing art that is soothing
Fair the work birthed by these hands.
Lesego (Blue) Kanyane, 21 years of age. I am from Daveyton In Benoni.
When it comes to poetry, I fell in love with the mystery of it and I knew my thoughts deserve a better place to stay so what better way than poetry.