Open Hands

I was born to live with
open hands.
Whilst others
spend their lives
holding on,
I let go

for dear life
needs to be loved
back to freedom
to fly away
and start anew.

The only constant for me
is the unaccountable
cycle of nine:
a neverending flux
of humanty
passing through
for me to love,
heal,
let go of.

Sometimes I want to hold on
so badly,
but it just wouldn't be fair.
Sometimes I throw my hands up in despair -
What about me? Who holds me? Why me?
And hear it echo
What about me? Who holds me? Why me?

What kind of answer is that?
To a soul born
so open
she could not carry a child,
hold down a job,
make her own father stay,
own anything.
How many times do I have to
wince at the sound
of a closing door?
Swallow tears
and force myself glad?
Move on
hearing
laughter in another room?
What? How?

Why ?


Then....

I notice
I am holding the sky

The entire heavens
are in my hands.

As I flung them upwards,
I received instantly.