by Melanie Dorsey
There is a place
Where there are no takers.
No hands raise
Like the elementary child
Who wants to hear,
“I see your hand.”
“You are the one.”
There is a place
Where dreams are dashed.
No hearts would go
Lest they were sent.
An off beat military
Who march to sounds
The rest can’t fathom.
There is a place
Where joy is fleeting.
No sure tomorrow
Lets fear be prey.
Forehead creases,
Ears keep straining
Listen for familiar timbre.
There is a place
Where still I stand
No captor’s easy spoil.
Let this heart
Beat an upward song.
“I see Your hands.”
“You are the One.”
(photo by Linda Charlene)
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