Freeing Hands
Your hand, brushed a tentative
question close to mine. “Can I?”
I wanted that. Our fingers twined.
Your hand, a constant friend,
a comfort, shared confidence,
swinging over city pavements.
Your hand, always right there.
At times I needed both of mine
free. Surely I could come back
to your hand? I smiled my palm,
gentle squeeze. “Be right back.”
Your knuckles spasmed. Locked.
Your hand, it got harder, bonier,
a claw, calcifying round mine.
From then, we were fossilising.
Your hand: I want to let go now.
I do not want to break your bones.
But now it seems I may have to.
This was written for Claudia’s “Letting Go” prompt at dVerse Poets. Here’s a link to the full prompt – well worth checking out.
http://dversepoets.com/2013/02/09/poetics-the-art-of-letting-go/
when things get too tight…it’s a small line sometimes…i know what you mean…and the hands that comforted and loved us once become more like prisons…fossilising…really well written..
Thanks Claudia. I confess I was pleased with the “fossilising” line. Had this image of a crabby old hand wasting away to bone still clinging on in an unbreakable grip.
oh dang…tht which once brings up comfort becomes our cage…and the only way out being to hurt them…whole lot of reality in that situation…nicely captured ma’am
Thanks Brian – that’s exactly what I was trying to get across, so glad it came over!
Wonderfully written poem! It just brings such a vivid picture to mine of someone REFUSING to let go. “Fossilising” IS just perfect.
Thanks Mary – I think I was feeling a bit “archeological” when I wrote that bit!
I like the turn from inviting to hold hands, to wanting to let go ~ We need to find that delicate balance in a relationship, before it gets fossilised ~ This is beautifully penned ~
Grace
Thank you so much Grace – yes, I wanted to show that progression in a relationship.
Excellent writing!
Thank you Mommy Zen!
Ah, sometimes we just have to let go of clinging hands. Beautiful words!
Thank you Chhavi.
wow. nice write.
a different kind of “Letting Go” from what others I’d read; but this is ample, too.
a different facet of life.
I like the trope of you palm smiling with a slight squeeze;
and how it may hurt (breaking of bones) to accomplish the necessary.
well done.
Thank you very much – I like to try to take a different angle if I can…
sometimes breaking bones (hopefully only metaphorically) is the only way… i’ve been there & it isn’t easy – somehow we humans think often in terms of forever… when forever isn’t necessarily the best outcome for one or other (or both) in a partnership
yes, i really like the poem
Oh yes, always metaphorical in the bone-breaking department! Thanks Ruth – glad you enjoyed this.
Aww, this one made me sad. Beautifully written. Touch is my love language so to write from this perspective hit home for me.
Glad it spoke to you Gretchen, even though in a kinda bittersweet way.
I like the growth in this story. It’s very well written.
Thanks Deana.
Excellent story in a few short lines. I really like this take on “letting go”, and the irony that if “your hand” had just let go, then there would be no need for the speaker to break free and let go. You emphasized how important and beneficial letting go can be and the negative effects of holding on too tight. And I totally agree with everyone else, “fossilized” was the perfect word.
You’re very kind Heidi – thank you.
…when things became too attached it’s hard to let go… but when love is not to care anymore but rather griping both emotionally & physically that’s when you draw the line already even if it would mean hurting you & the other…. smiles…
Thanks for reading Kelvin.
You paint a clear but familiar picture.
Glad it rang true – thanks for reading.
Very well captured setting…even an aging person knows to let go eventually, gracefully…or face being pushed away..
Think it can come at any age, but know what you mean – hard lesson to learn all round I guess. Thanks Katy.
haunting
Thanks Lucy.
Yikes. Hard. k.
It’s the bone breaking at the end I guess… Purely metaphorical I promise!
Fossilising…so may possibilities there.
many*
hands clutch, hands won’t let go. i gotcha!!
You certainly do!
You’ve beautifully expressed the difference between invited holding on and desperate grasping – one pleasant, the other a cage.
Thanks Tony.
It’s a good metaphor for how things go sometimes..
The old ones are the best…
a very descriptive poem, Holly, a relationship told by the way we view a hand held,…Wonderful imagery… xPenx
Hi Pen. Thanks for following my page and for your comments. Looking forward to reading more of your work.