I Fill This Small Space: The Writings of a Deaf Activist

The Ballet of the Hands

1 The Ballet of the Hands Observe: How fingers curl and paint Until out of airy nothingness Words and pictures leap and dance With wondrous grace and beauty of design— The ballet of the hands. Reflect: An open door, a ray of light, A history of struggle to survive The choking confines of man’s mind Until thrives in home and meeting place Hands that sculpt, talk and sing— Our very own. O palpable air. Think: Motionless or fluid, curled or uncurled One finger, one flick of the wrist, One sweep of the hands speak volumes, Evoke happiness or grief, stir minds As if by some magic alchemy. O for such a gift raise your eyes and praise. Study: The face complementary, alive, Vibrant the body, coiled or uncoiled In mute chorus to the dancing hands All converging in three dimensional grace. O communication sure and joyous. 2 See: The ballet of the hands, How they portray A falling leaf with a feathery touch The force and power of Thor’s thunder, The parade of history in one hour, The soft beauty of confessed love, The word of God . . . O let us all arise And in chorus sing a tableau of praise. ...