A Hand to Hold
When your vision is so sharply focused on that one knot
You pull on its frayed ends
It becomes tighter and tighter, so tautly bound, that it can never be undone
This becomes the moment you forsake yourself
Your breath shallow
The thunder of the paddling darkness comes
A downpour of sound swallows you whole
But you have that knot
Balled up so tightly, your knuckles are white
Your hand cramped
Your nails dig into soft palms
that want nothing more than a hand to hold
I’ve noticed a lot of “breathing” (or struggling for breath) in your poetry lately, a kind of desperate tension, which is perfectly imaged here with the “knot.” I can’t help noticing how different in tone your writing is from your painting. Interesting to see these facets.
Beautifully expressed , this poem reached and moved me, much like a hand that reaches for someone’s reassuring hold.