I stretch forth my hand
Knowing not what I shall touch...
A tender spot,
An open wound,
Warmth,
Pulsing life,
Fragile blossoms,
A rock,
Ice.
I am tentative, trembling...
Wishing to avoid hurt,
Wanting to link my life with Life.
Lonely, I desire companions
Naked, I long for defenders.
Lost, I want to find...
to be found.
Will I touch strangers
Or enemies
Or nothing?
My hand is withdrawn
But still it touches
My vulnerable skin, my furrowed brow,
My empty pocket, my full heart.
Do others reach, tremble, withdraw?
Do they desire, long, seek?
Are they lonely, fearful, lost?
Will they grasp a tentative, trembling hand?
I stretch forth my hand
Knowing not what I shall touch...
But hoping...