“Then all this became history.Your hand found mine.Life rushed to my fingers like a blood clot.Oh, my carpenter,the fingers are rebuilt.They dance with yours.”
In this quote by Anne Sexton, the speaker reflects on a transformation brought about by the touch of their partner's hand. The imagery of life rushing to the fingertips like a blood clot suggests a powerful and overwhelming sensation of vitality and connection. The comparison of their fingers to a carpenter rebuilding them implies a sense of renewal and repair in their relationship. The mention of dancing fingers symbolizes harmony and unity between the speaker and their partner. Overall, the quote conveys a deep sense of love, intimacy, and rejuvenation.
In this poetic excerpt by Anne Sexton, the idea of finding solace and wholeness in the presence of a loved one is beautifully described. The vivid imagery of intertwined hands and the rejuvenating power of touch speak to the timeless experience of connection and support in relationships. In today's fast-paced, technology-driven world, this reminder of the nourishing impact of human connection is more relevant than ever. As we navigate the complexities of modern life, taking the time to cherish and nurture the relationships that bring us comfort and renewal becomes increasingly important.
"Then all this became history. Your hand found mine. Life rushed to my fingers like a blood clot. Oh, my carpenter, the fingers are rebuilt. They dance with yours." - Anne Sexton
Reflecting on this powerful imagery from Anne Sexton's poem, consider the following questions:
“God went out of me as if the sea dried up like sandpaper, as if the sun became a latrine. God went out of my fingers. They became stone. My body became a side of mutton and despair roamed the slaughterhouse.”
“Her KindI have gone out, a possessed witch,haunting the black air, braver at night;dreaming evil, I have done my hitchover the plain houses, light by light:lonely thing, twelve-fingered, out of mind.A woman like that is not a woman, quite.I have been her kind.I have found the warm caves in the woods,filled them with skillets, carvings, shelves,closets, silks, innumerable goods;fixed the suppers for the worms and the elves:whining, rearranging the disaligned.A woman like that is misunderstood.I have been her kind.I have ridden in your cart, driver,waved my nude arms at villages going by,learning the last bright routes, survivorwhere your flames still bite my thighand my ribs crack where your wheels wind.A woman like that is not ashamed to die.I have been her kind.”
“Yet love enters my blood like an I.V., dripping in its little white moments.”
“Suicides have a special language. Like carpenters they want to know which tools.They never ask why build.”
“Poetry is my life, my postmark, my hands, my kitchen, my face.”
“Now I am going back And I have ripped my hand From your hand as I said I would And I have made it this far ...”