Touch

Sometimes life reminds you of the importance of the simple things - the things a friend can do to make you feel less alone, less vulnerable, less sad.  A hand on your shoulder, a squeeze of your hand, a kick in the ass.

Scientists attempt to explain why touch makes us feel "better" - release of oxytocin, reduction of cortisol, changes in levels of various immune cells. But the simple truth is sometimes the touch of another person is all that stands between us and despair.

Physical contact connects us in a unique way.  A mother as she holds her newborn baby the first time, a daddy as he wipes away his child's tears, new lovers locked in an embrace and old lovers who hold hands late into the night. Touch without words, speaking volumes to the heart, giving life to the spirit. Reminding us that we are not alone.


Hold Me
Hold me
Just for now
Let me rest my head on your chest
Let me hear your heart beating
Let me feel your breath on my skin
Let me know I'm safe and protected
In your arms
Just for now
Hold me

You Left

You Left

I don't know what I expected
But what ever it was, that's not what I got
I did NOT expect to cry
as I sat in that church
I walked in angry
I was not there for you
I was there for your mother, your sister, your brothers
I was there for our friends
the ones who had forgiven you
I was there for our childhood
I was NOT there for you.
You made your choice
You walked away
You got stoned, you got sick, you died
You gave everything away - for nothing
You turned your back on me, on your family, on your life
I didn't have to accept you
when you finally decided to reclaim what you had thrown away
And so, I didn't
Then why did I cry?
Why did you go?

Begin Again

Two years ago this month I started this blog.  When I started, it was to continue what had become a daily habit of posting on a CaringBridge site for a dear friend.  That friend left us and I continued the blog for a while but eventually it fell from my life.
Lately there have been things that have made me want to write again.
Instead of starting something new I've gone back to some things that I wrote more than 30 years ago.  After a little editing, I would like to share some of those old poems here.  Maybe something new will follow . . .

Hands

Your hand in mine
across the table
uneaten food between us
unspoken words
Your hand in mine
in the dark, TV screen glowing
but unwatched
Your hand in mine
late at night, walking the hall
IV pole leading the way
Your hand in mine
monitors and people
confusion in the ICU
Late one night
the last night, saying goodbye
My hand in yours