Healing Hands is a poem I wrote and submitted as part of my final ethics examination in my final year of my BSc. Physiotherapy degree (2014). I would like to thank my lecturer Dr. M. Rowe for structuring the module in such a way that I could explore it creatively and fuel my love for writing.
The following poem was written to show the transition from a students way of thinking into a professional thinking.
Struggles seemed colossal.
I am juvenile in my thinking.
With growth comes pain.
I feel the walls.
Sandpaper. Uneven. Unsure.
I pause. Where to from here? I ask
The journey seems endless.
Frantically my hands search the walls.
For an answer. For guidance.
Nothing is revealed.
Travelling across the walls
My hands drift without a purpose.
But never sure.
Take a deep breath.
And move forward into the unknown.
I feel the walls.
As cold as ice. An eeriness engulfs the air.
My hands delicately flicker across the bricks.
Premature to think that the struggle was over.
Before things build up they are sure to break
Down. Down into the ground.
The end seems too far too grasp.
My unsure hands wander.
Touching without a purpose.
I feel the walls. Bumpy still.
The hands that feel, somehow have a new perspective.
They realise the walls are bumpy.
Re-aligning fibres, I find my way.
The echoes of days past still ring aloud
Like the angelus bell at noon.
Not to urge me to remember but to motivate me
And to remind me not to forget.
Together we dance
We danced a new song
A song of understanding
Empathy inked on the lines of every green leaf
A new love.
But the hands that touch somehow feel something unfamiliar.
I stand, staring looking at these hands.
Realising how far they have come.
Written on these hands are memories of lower backs
Legs, tapping of iimpundus, gently rocking babes,
Massages a plenty…
Hundreds and thousands of words written.
Gestures of comfort given…
The walls are smooth.
Now and again the hands they feel a familiar bump.
The mind recalls a memory.
A smile. A tear. A giggle the face permits.
But scars of suffering were left to tell the
Tale of a battle won.
Iimpundu translated into English means buttocks (Unisa, 2014).
P.S I ran on “African Time”, that’s why this post is so depayed
Unisa. (2014). Xhosa. Theme 9: The human body (Pdf). Retrieved from http://www.unisa.ac.za/free_online_course/PDF/Xhosa/Learn%20online%20Xhosa%20-%20Theme%209.pdf on the 9th November, 2014