push & pull.
8:17 AMyou asked me to write about death,
but all that comes to mind is hands.
hands
on the small of my back.
fingers
on my scalp.
&
prints
everywhere they shouldn't be.
there's a vulnerability to it.
and I'm flipping back through the pages
looking for your arms
but arms are nothing without hands,
and these hands
these hands
these hands are pushing me towards the edge.
it is constant
it is steady and patient,
and only the narrator can put them on pause.
these hands have got me writing a bucket list,
they've got me despising cold sheets
and empty friday nights.
sleep is for the young,
curfew-breaking for the careless,
for the ones who pay the hands no attention.
last night a boy turned and took those hands,
I'd like to ask if they were warm.
and exactly what they spelled out on his spine in order to get his attention.
and I'd like that tragedy to make your skin cold,
and I'd like to pound out
any
single
word
that would somehow warm his mind.
and I would like my cursor to breathe,
for him,
for me,
for anyone who needs it.
I'd like to say I understand.
I'd like to tell you about tomorrow,
and I'd like you to trust my hands
instead of the ones pressed against your back.
because the rest of us have become awfully good at ignoring them.
6 comments
"I'd like to tell you about tomorrow." Something about that line.
ReplyDeleteTomorrow has never been more important.
ReplyDeleteSo many good lines but "sleep is for the young" and the last line too
ReplyDeleteThis was such a good response to the tragedy. Easily my favorite, and I read a lot hoping I could find some closure. This was beautiful, the metaphor so well used. PS watch out for Sydney for me. She's taking it real hard.
ReplyDeleteWay good! "I'd like to tell you about tomorrow"
ReplyDeleteI'm with Lexi. This is incredible and my favorite that I've read.
ReplyDelete