Slipping

My sister gave me a little prompt, a story in poem format about losing a friend with the running metaphor of a hand. This is what I came up with.

Our hands slipped from one another’s steadily

Like we were holding them together in prayer for as long as we could

She and I used to see who could pray the longest

Wondered if we could chat God’s ear off 

We wondered if he’d send a tattooed angel with soft hands and a kind face

We were just two children who made turkeys with our stubby fingers

Just two teenagers who texted more than we talked

Just two fools who didn’t know our hands weren’t clasped, anymore

It was a cold December when she said her family was moving

And I wondered if we’d ever see one another again

If we’d ever hold hands on the swings again

If we’d ever weave flower crowns out of dandelions and wishes again

I wondered

I wondered

I wondered

My hands calloused

Her hands softened

We were slipping

But it was a slow race to the end

Her hand was too soft to hold onto mine at the edge of the cliff

This friendship was slipping, dew drop by dew drop

Finger letting go from finger

We didn’t want to admit it

But we were miles away from where we’d first started and the road wasn’t getting any shorter

I was just too heavy

Maybe neither of us were strong enough

But eventually one of us slipped 

The other didn’t hear the scream

Because I was a thousand miles away

Not even the echoes reached Tennessee 

My hands were covered in the blood of a lost friend

She wasn’t dead

I could reach her through phone

Through text

Through Email, too

But none of it was as it was before

Replies came slow

Life got dimmer

And eventually, we let go of childhood 

And maybe we held onto what was for too long

But it was nice, to hold onto something familiar

Because what do you even do when you’re slipping?

Do you cry out for a savior even though they’re miles away?

Or do you let yourself fall

Maybe someone new will catch you at the bottom

But the truth is you never know

So you hold the hand that’s been there the longest

Even if it hurts to keep your fingers from slipping

Even if your hand bleeds 

Because who the hell wants something unknown when something you know is right in front of you?

Just an outstretched hand away from tomorrow

Reviews

[William Michael Reeves]

This poem took me to memories of friendships I had forgotten as a child. Brief friendships that felt real. Might of been something if circumstances were of our own control. What if ...
Thanks for taking me somewhere with your words like good poetry has a way of doing.

[Toni.S]

I love the line, "And maybe we held onto what was for too long." So familiar. I have to always remind myself, that friends come into your life for a reason, season, or lifetime.

[Lillian Kirsch]

This poem is genuinely beautiful. It tells a whole story, it almost has you begging her not to leave. I myself, am terrified of being left alone, this poem reminded me of that. I could relate to so many aspects of this short story you told in the form of poetry. My favorite part has to be this

"Her hand was too soft to hold onto mine at the edge of the cliff
This friendship was slipping, dew drop by dew drop
Finger letting go from finger"

I think this is portrays perfectly how it feels to slowly lose someone who's special