I am floating and in my eyes and my mind and the leaves of a tree there are hands,
because hands are all we have,
because creation is all we are,
because everything spirals outward in the hand of our hands,
because fingers are too long but too short to hold everything we need in them,
because the leaves are many more than the palms but we pretend that trees aren’t real,
in our mass hallucination where you all call me crazy for putting my hands up,
and we pretend our lives are bigger and heavier than anything else when really we just need to look at the colors, when really we just need to experience, when really we just need to remember that curly hair holds all the secrets and all the eyes and watching really matters, and we’ll be freer once we’ve bathed in the sunlight and let go, dropped our hands,
and let the world hold us tighter.