I am again...

Caught
              in the then and now.

Blind footfalls
              on the treadmill of life.

With a head
              filled with thoughts
              hands full of nothing
              and a heart full of porcelain.

Lone seed,
nestled in the dirt.
Calling for rain to soothe
its parched skin.

Lone seedling,
finding foothold...
To brave billowing gusts
that threaten its conviction.

Lone tree,
rooted deep.
Set in its ways.
Change is but dream.

Lone fruit,
falls to the earth.
Defenseless and vulnerable.
Bearing the promise of
life and change
within feeble flesh.

Lone purpose.
To learn, embody
and pass on
the baton of possibilities
so that change...

Comes to fruition.

This thing...

Delicate,
fragile
but potent.
Erratic even.

Yet I hold it close.
I clench it fast within my grasp.

I care not
for its volatile nature.
I care not
if it’ll sway me.
I care not
if it’ll explode.

Because at the end of the day,
it’s all I have.

Reaching out
from the darkened recesses.
With calloused fingers
and rough bit nails.

Clawing
Grabbing.
Clutching.
At any semblance of order...
And balance.

Make these theirs.
Let these be within reach.

For they,
those digits...
Worn, scraggly and desperate.

They belong to one.
They answer to one,
martyred heart.