life, poetry, prosetry

The hands of the lost

Sometimes

You pick the sinking ship

Recognizing within

Carousel parts of

Your own visit on earth

There is much wrong

In repeating mistakes or

Returning to well worn habit

When outcomes have proven they are

Dead roads and broken boats

It is not that you are

A martyr

Or even a fool

You do not wish

To bring yourself lower

But if you imagine life

As a well worn stoop

And whom you should feel

Most comfortable sitting there with

Then you will fathom

The type who finds themselves

Supporting the broken-down and

The fractured

For the sheer honesty of their response

And that well earned familiar

That you have known over and over

In the apologetic eyes of your own

And that trembling hand teaching through time

Asking you to

Be patient with my mistakes

There is something

Comforting and real

In a flaw

When all the city lights try to attain pearly perfection

Something you’ve never related to

Another language for

Early risers without grime stains behind their ears

The kinds who are punctual and routine

And do not make shoddy excuses for

Why they cannot lift the weight of the world

From their shoulders

People who may

Go on to take office whilst you seek

To survive and advance by understanding

What keeps the world turning

Which

Can be discovered

In equal amount

From the hands of the lost

As those who are found

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10 thoughts on “The hands of the lost

  1. so much truth ringing through your lines. and there would be no sense in supporting someone already standing strong, it’ll only make sense to teach them how to support others. beacons of strength to remind others of their own, maybe lost course. (I’m so enthralled by the sea still, I always end up with nautical imagery…. can’t help it

    Liked by 1 person

    • M, it struck me that especially here in this new country of America where I still feel foreign, there is that over-arcing need to run with champions and I wanted to pen something about the value of the under-dog or those who are fractured because whilst the world thinks it would necessarily bring us to that level should we choose them over the ‘bright ones’ I would say the compassion and truth of those people is often more valuable and you can learn more from that experience. I guess I’m fed-up with only heroes being vaunted though I know I won’t change anything by my off-kilter drift toward the alternative, I am glad you saw something in this as that was a message of truth I felt had value. Thank you my friend for reading this.

      Liked by 1 person

    • PS I would love to be able to write as frequently as you, dear one, you seem to have no bounds nor know the meaning of writers block you are a perpetual stream of inspiration which I find very encouraging as well as incredible – keep being you and I will run behind you slower and less constant but every bit as appreciative of storms and oceans 😉 xo

      Liked by 1 person

      • Lol… no bounds… hmm maybe I was a wild river once… who knows. Or I’m just obsessed with writing. Thank you, glad to inspire! I’ve recently talked with somebody about writer’s block and how I just refused to let it stop me from writing, by continuing to write. Does that make sense? As long as you promise me to keep writing, I don’t care. Even if my output is really high at time, I always prefer quality over quantity. And your pieces are always of great quality!

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