Where does unbelief begin?
When I was young

there were degrees of certainty.
I could say, Yes I know that I have two hands.
Then one day I awakened on a planet of people whose hands occasionally disappear...

Anne Carson, "The Glass Essay"

Something bright, then holes
is how a newly sighted girl

once described a hand. The continuum
cracks, and now I am

Half. A whole
half. I see that now, though

I still struggle to see
the beauty in front of me

O the blindness of having been born
able to see.

Maggie Nelson, "Something bright, then holes"

I want you to look at your hand. Marvel at your being able to see it, to touch and hold with it. I want you never to forget your body. That you have one is miraculous. Maybe you don't really use it so much anymore, and maybe you and I have become body-machine, one and the same, I have absorbed you, changed and complicated you, your boundaries, mysterious barricades, defied.

But still your hand is yours. Remember that, embody that. Touch your face, hold Something very hot or sharp or cold. Or raise it to the sky.