hold this hand

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Hold this hand
calloused, tired
and grasping,
grasping
at this hard air
slipping through fingers
that want to hold on
onto anything
anything
that feels real.
They catch nothing,
hold nothing,
hold nothing I want
to keep.
So catch me
catch me, as I drift
without tether.
Turn my face
so my eyes
meet yours.
The beginning of me
being found.
– jennifer j. camp

This post appeared originally at jenniferjcamp.com