Her Grasp Is Empty

She wants to lift her hands up to the sky
and feel the sun on her face

but all that comes is rain and shadow.

She wants to feel a hand in hers,
but her grasp is empty,
and her reach isn’t far enough
to get hold of anything

that might hold on in return.

She wants to keep her head above water
but she is tired of swimming;
she was never meant to roll
in salt-water waves of tears —

they overwhelm at every turn.

She wants to feel something warm again,
something solid,
something that isn’t crushing,
something that isn’t broken.

She wants to know it will get better,

but I am supposed to have promised
not to lie.


Talk back to me. Trust me; I'm listening.

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )


Connecting to %s