The skies seemed
more blue
in Brazil.
The birds seemed
more flighty.
Unwilling to land
or even comprehend
the idea of closing
their wings.
To do so would be unjust.
To do so would mean that
they were no longer
souring.
A part of the clouds
Overhead and the
Fish that naively
swam below.
So many of the two legged beings
seemed happy.
static on the hot sand
that stopped the Sea in its footsteps.
To them being still was
part of life.
a life they so often didn’t question.
So few knew what it meant to Soar.
so few cared to find out.
They left the flying to the birds
and the dying to themselves.
The skies seemed
more blue
in Brazil,
but the people died all the same.
Tag Archives: human poetry
The Life of a Hand
An extended hand
So small
Yet ready to grow
Eagerly awaiting another to join
To fill it’s clasp with another
Warm and loving
Full of age and wisdom
Lessons for future situations
Wanting what’s best for
Those five fingers and palm
Suspended in the air.
As times gone by
That hand has felt
Numerous other things
And feelings
Interlocking fingers with your first love
Tying your hair back for another day at school
Holding that lipstick your mother
Told you you were too young for
Holding the pen you used to write in
Your diary
A collection of hand movements
Ordered by the mind.
And now it lays their
Still in motion
As you fall asleep
Centimeters away from
A hold you adore
A hold that makes your feel safe
And lets you forget the edges of your vision
For what seems like a forever
That once new soft hand
Rugged with memories of
Pain and love
Lust and loss
That hand once again extended
Knowing the world
And the person
It hopes to join.
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