The Touch
. . . of a Woman
is blessed by her hand
some of her days can be made better
when both are allowed to understand
some of her nights she is tired
walking to buildings connected by streets
in hopes to welcome the night gods retire
appease day gods by rubbing her feet
the wonder of which gods she dreams
pleased she is resting again
not sure which ones cradle her fate
with no knowledge of how why or when
all one can do when love won’t inspire
one of us quits while the other is fired
the touch from a woman left out in the rain
informed by no word from it now must abstain
the decree to her universe not permitted to see
what everyone else is told this now must be
living without demands strength from within
without the will or the need to again begin
the courage of bravery described in books
fails to mention where now should one look
the most read of all still learns with each page
the more that one learns when less will engage
in any dialog it won’t allow
credit to mistakes made to the hour
privately calling timeouts still in play
leads the injuries that won’t go away
only the touch of a stranger’s left hand
gives one of us the right to understand
the touch of a woman from inside a crowd
desparate enough to attract the distant proud
the adrenaline of the now shiny renew
cares not what they say under what one must do
for one it’s too late for each one on time
substitute person for on that’s on line
suffer the children that have not come for me
cover the ones who don’t want me to see
now is the last month of previous years
it’s assumed I am the source of all that you fear
absent of visual scars of escape
ordered to lie in the bed that you make
the curry of favor over chicken and rice
the blade that you cut with saves sharper nice
the toothless saw used on bones of the heart
wears down the soul that won’t leave us apart
back and forth each night until halfway
the scent of the bone makes no love go away
like highways littered with beer cans and stare
by the eyes of those caught unaware
mercifully after three years the bone snaps
it’s kinda funny the limp and collapse
resulting from decapitation of sorts
what’s understood far exceeds the reports
now that we’ve come to the last of my skin
have you now finished what was forced to begin
can you finish ignoring me to death
have you made public what once you protect
life is a bowl of conflict free cherries
with lips so red from this years best berries
smile on the pain grin at despair
knowing the love in the amputee still there
the cane of farewell gives into the chair
pushed by a figment imagined with care
offer the hug void of every embrace
the smile of the spite unleashed with all grace
the mercy unable to be willing with care
unrecognized by the one who put it there
where did my confidence go you once asked
it’s next to the happiness for which you fought
the happiness you swore I kept for my own
vacant of blood to the face that you own
you paid good money for better finance
keeping the spear removing the lance
by the side of your favorite road
left to feed beggars before left to toads
the eyes eaten out in the skull broken twice
defending your honor now food for worm lice
still bearing the flag of your kingdom now new
the touch of your hand changed your sky to bright blue
and from the earth of my remains grew
the touch of your hand left for the right to be with you
written October the 9th, 2020
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