Singing with my hands.

I am not sure why,
But when I sing,
When I pour every ounce of my soul into a song,
And I feel each atom of my being vibrating in unison.
When I gently rock my body to the rhythm,
Close my eyes,
And tilt my head trancelike,
It is my hands that lose all control.

But I sing in a choir and I am almost there.
In that unique little zone of happiness.
Communing with my fellow choristers,
And making beautiful music,
Together.

Yet...

To set my hands free,
To move and jerk about to their own will.
To flap and retract and bend this way and that,
To no design but their own.
It is in these brief moments.
When I sing unrepressed.
I can be truly free.