hands

hand in my mouth

wind on my face

cold and misplaced

I'm oblivious to grace

crude poverty 

yeah you know me

won't you let go of me

can't  fly , can't see

that no one can hear me

hands in my pockets

no hands that touch me

hands that don't love me

stronger than i need to be

there's beauty for ashes

first you have to get dirty

knees on the floor

another family war

don't know why too strong to cry

sad, sad season will you ever pass

I'm tired of mysteries

and stories of glass

hands in my mouth

words I'll never say

truth she can be harsh

let them lie where they lay

butterfly in winter, out of place

hand in my mouth, wind on my face

Sometimes what we seek is there ,we just overlook it.

There are times silence saves us from saying too much.

And sometimes where we are is where we need to be, even if it isn't lovely

The poverty I speak of is being denied what is rightfully ours, being denied a voice

in our life, dealing with that, gracefully as possible.

To anyone reading any of my creative efforts on here

THANK YOU!!!