your inevitability in my cupped hands

your inevitability in my cupped hands
remind me my senses often how
limited i am in perception—
i didn’t see you coming

neither winds nor sky can foretell
your homecoming… how senseless
i’ve become, struck dumb by
the subtleties of such sound…

your voice which renders each
fragile touch with blessed
fortitude… i can’t help reach
and hold steadfast onto you—

you who slap and offend me
with constant refrain
but who, in my struggle against,
i can never let go

poem©mrg 8/24/16

20160927_223002

Hands ©mrg 9/27/16