Hands

Hands

The only difference

between us and them

Humans and animals.

Pointless to ask which came first;

The brain or the hand

If it was the brain

It developed the hand

From the paws that clawed clubs

To the tentacles that willed morons

To make and break

Homes and hearts.

If it was the hand

It developed the brain

From the matter that watched deer

To the ovens that cooked them

To make and break

homes and hearts.

So it really doesn’t matter

Which came first

The days of scratching chins

on chickens or eggs

are so last century.

It was with dismay

That I finally understood

I’m no Einstein or Darwin

No Camus or even Orwell

But when I was just a wee acid head

Bouncing about with the best of them

I had that rarest moment of clarity

That’s clung to me ever since

As we shot each other devil eyes

used our hands to communicate

our beatific love

and hideous hatred

on a Mayfair dancefloor.

Here I saw how hands

Made us who we are

Not words

These were the only difference

between us and them

And it’s not the speed we type

Or the guns we hold

Or the money we finger

That makes us different

From the beasts we devour

test and kill for fun.

It’s the hands we hold out

The hands we stroke and kiss

That gratify and define us.

While hacking and filling cracks

In the walls of my brain

At someone else’s house

I heard Chomsky say

Very eloquently on Radio Four

That the only difference

Between us and them was

that we could make new worlds

entirely from imagination

through fiction.

Him and his words

Going on and on

Even he couldn’t see

That it was our hands

That made these worlds possible.

I thought of Blade Runner

And wished I was Rutger Hauer

Finally about to die

Finally about to see

- everything -

But for the moment

I’m happy just to be one up

On old Chomsky

And while he’s right to say

That sitting there

Hating ourselves

As we will a new story

is an act of bravery

he must be able to see

That we could never leave such a legacy

Without our hands.