POETRY with Christia Madacsi: Hands Unfolded

A Poem Shared in Celebration of the Legacy of Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr.

FIRST, A NOTE

Today's poem was sparked by a StoryCorps segment I heard on National Public Radio, here in the U.S. It was a recorded conversation between a young Black boy and his father, talking about their relationship. The father recounted how proud he felt when his son was born, and how worried he was about raising a Black boy in Mississippi. In the segment, he talks about the power of making your voice heard, politically. He recounts his dream for his son by way of an old proverb that says when children are born, they come out with their fists closed "because that's where they keep all their gifts. And as you grow, your hands learn to unfold, because you're learning to release your gifts to the world."

The recording for today's poem comes from an appearance at the American Embassy’s American Center New Delhi, where I was invited to share my work as part of the Delhi Poetry Slam showcase on post-modern poetry. The live event was organized by Programme Director Saumya Choudhury, and featured performances by both American and Indian poets on the theme of "nurturing inclusion.” I share it here in celebration of the legacy of Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr.

POETRY

Hands Unfolded

Hands unfolded, he said,
I want you to live
with your hands unfolded
As if he told of a time, a state,
he could see him grow, his son,
without the need to shield
his face, set his jaw,
against a coming of age
A time where the persistence
of lines, laws, drawn down
the center of centuries,
of cities, gridded for greed,
could no longer predict
the statistics of fate
And he could grow, his son,
unimpeded, walk, run, sleep,
breathe, easy, arms at his side,
hands, unfolded