Refill these hands
That worked hard and bled today
To add beauty and respect
To old clothes.
Hands not smooth and not shy
That travel quick through the stitches
And join the borders of a hot Sunday.
Give them water, a shake, and a rest
In your lap
Until fresh again.
Reward me with a tea
Made from free mountain herbs
For my independence.
Return my kindness
With a freshly baked cake
That your hands crafted in liberty.
Move your eyes to follow my anguish
And surprise me with a message
Made of five words that do not rhyme.
Start a movement
and you will never feel in the corner.
Young woman with a sculptured character
You Prevent me from running blindly
Towards a mirage with a blurred profile
And from grabbing with direct hands my illusions.
You keep me connected
To the world of decisions and actions
Where perfection is unnecessary
And purposes are valuable.
Remember to breath
When there is nothing you can control
And have to keep your hands open.
You will be able to grab
Only what fits in your fist
From enduring spring flowers to chaotic fettuccine
And life will be in proportion
I have only short fingers
To tell my story
And type passionately this night.
In this short distance,
All life condenses in drops of memories
And vapour of lost kisses.
Short words will be ideal
To write those heavy memories,
The persons that can only be remembered,
And the baby steps I climbed
And now behind my back.
Scent of mandarins fills the office
While my hands quickly expose their flesh
And my imagination takes me back to Christmas.
Welcoming office of familiar smells
You cuddle the outcome of intensive work
In the less pleasant lab.
Outside my window only a far land
And a distant town
Put boundaries to my creativity.
No eyes are staring
But looks are guessing
This woman with no fear
That always asks more and pushes the limit.
I stare at my hands
And hold them together
Because they are my best friend.
Allow your inner quiet to reach the surface.
Incredible discoveries are born in silence,
Are adopted by the enjoyment for life,
And take life in your gloved hands
in the lab.
Years of hypotheses and confrontation
Gave you that idea
Of marvelous potential
And unmeasurable impact
For the people and the society.
You cuddle it in your mind
You question it and lay it to rest
Each day until the right moment.
If it makes sense
If it is feasible
Depends only on you
And your hands and vision.
You prove it
You make it reasonable and accepted
Against the critics and odds of statistics.
Trust your hands and step forward.
Warm hands with experience
Move and drift
And my skin forgets
And my mind takes off
To the place where it should always be
At the right distance
From tears and cramps.
Stick to me because of nature,
Years passed and we grew together,
Always more compatible.
My little hands recognize you,
Refusing the others
While we give life to a new superior entity.
The sun is shy today
And clouds seem to buffer
The full potential of a day in the lab.
Trepidation takes me there,
Expectations drive my walk to the bench,
Reasoning on unheard hypotheses
Excites my ego and hurries my hands.