Poem: A Hand Not Held

A Hand Not Held

By Katherine Givens
QuailBellMagazine.com

*Editor's Note: This poem was originally published in The Screech Owl.

Empty.
I curl my fingers,
Hoping to feel the warmth
Of another’s flesh,
But I clutch at nothingness.
Empty.
I glance down at my fist,
Thinking perhaps I missed,
But I realize I am alone.
No one stands beside me.
No one waits for my touch.
No one belongs to me.
Empty.
But beyond the stage,
Beyond the realm of myself,
I see outsiders with expect faces.
All glance in to witness
The girl with a sense of self, of purpose,
But none stay long enough to give.
Empty.
I lift up my hand,
Reach for someone to hold,
But all sidestep my clasp.
Empty.
I show myself my palm,
I study the lattice of etches and creases,
The calluses born of hard-work,
The scar slashed across my thumb.
Complex, resolute, pained.
But no one to adore
These perfections and imperfections
I am marked by.
Empty.
I lift my hand, not held by another,
And caress my own cheek.
I offer my own comfort,
Take myself for who I am,
For I refuse to change for anyone
Not willing to prize my all.
Alone,
But waiting for someone
To fill the emptiness
With what I deserve.
Acceptance.

#Unreal #Poetry #Love #SelfWorth #Value #Relationships #Solitude
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