Your Commanding Hands

Your hands massage my shoulders
Causing each of my back muscles
To tense in wonderful succession
Like the keys of a xylophone
Trembling beneath the running mallet.
As you gently pulse down my back
With those commanding hands
I feel each muscle begin to sing
As if you are playing
A slow, relaxing scale of chords.
How your hands weave such alternate senses
To linger on my sensitive nerves,
I cannot understand.
It is as if a shark learned to fly
Or a knife learned to sew.
Your hands so drastically changed.
Moving again to my sides and hips
Your hands become forceful,
Grabbing hold tight
To spin me like a carousel
Spiraling through the air
Control lost of the world around it,
Stopping my motion to face you now
I can see the hands
That touched me so.
The hands that had frightened,
Healed, forced and held like they had,
Stealing me into reality after reality
Never to grasp hold of one
Before I am thrown into another
Those hands that took a life of their own
As their surprising caress
Raised the hairs on my neck
As their gentle strength
Calmed the waters along my back,
As their strong spirit
Dominated again
To send me reeling through space
Only to stop once more
And offer a sense of cool balance
Only they could give,
Those hands that brought me to you.
Your commanding hands.