extended hand

so fragile we are---

broken eggshells on

the pavement,

split ends tearing,

puzzle pieces

scattered all over the

place with no one

qualified enough to

put them together,

selves upon selves

upon selves upon

selves, questions

contradicting

assertions &

assertions wanting

to blot out any

further questions,

open wounds that

keep bleeding

no matter how hard

we try to stop it

with gauze, with

multiple clothes,

with cauterizing tools

& yet,

when a hand is extended,

the walls go up,

the barbed wire gets rolled

out & the bayonets get

sharpened---

the older you get the harder

you get & the harder you get

the more dead inside &

the lack of a belief that

anything remotely resembling

“trust” even exists anymore,

seems to greaten, not lessen,

as the days go by.

 

when the hand is extended,

we want to know what the body,

the heart & mind attached

wants with us---we want to know

the ulterior motives, we

want to know why anyone

would possibly throw a buoy

when we are drowning, for

what could the stopping of our

disintegration profit them?

what do they have in mind?

for certainly, no one in this world

does something for

nothing.

 

and this is the way we’ve been raised,

this is the way our wonderful

western capitalist catastrophe

has carved us, us good little citizens,

passing up real compassion when

it is offered to us,

because we can’t figure it out.

 

what if sometimes “a cigar is just a

cigar?”

&

a helping hand is just

a helping hand.

Reviews

[captain]

wow very nice, i like it!