My Hand

My hand is an primordial organ
An appendage gloved in Jurassic skin
Filled with bones of an untamed beast
Yet hold the world with a gentle touch

I was made in the hands of my mother
when she caressed my infant body;
I wriggled away from her embrace
to make the world with my own hands

I grasp a pen with sensuous grip,
glide on the page with civilized grace
with the same five fingers
the primordial man used to launch spears

The world of silicon and steel
Conquered
The world of swords and shields
Yet the hand made them both

Are my hands alien tools
Temporal anomalies floating freely in time
Or
Are our imaginations
Inadequate for using these marvelous tools?