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The Problem at Hand
February 10, 2014
I knew exactly what I wanted.
I’d tasted the sweetness once before.
So far from reach,
A hopeless pursuit.
An unrequited wish.
I grasped at threads that did not exist.
Nothingness. Emptiness.
…Until suddenly I secured a grip
And I clung on for dear life
Without a second thought.
A hand outstretched
Had saved me from the depths
Of god knows where.
It pulled me up,
Cradled and cocooned me.
Finally. Finally.
But I was at the hand’s whim—
A fate of my own making.
Though I stood on solid ground
Gasping for breath became an occupation.
It was all I knew.
A gift spoiled by insecurity.
Found. Unfound.
It was all I knew.
© Alissa F., Marblehead, MA
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