“Touch has a memory”
A softer sensation than nails in fences,
Yet one that condemns touch-me-nots,
Like fingers through hair, fingers in fingers
Twined like the bushel of blushing primrose
In the bloom.
When tips on tips, with pulse or without,
Are incident, a bridge laid, a line drawn
Between that or those by seas separate.
Welcome into life newer change,
Heavenly debts incurred.
The timid timbre of a new approach,
Trading trembling fingers, souls anxious to bridge
With a person, a book or a tomorrow.
Assurances for more, certitude of
Hope and better
The desiring heart confounds with nervous
Instruments of touch that are tasked with
The initial embrace. But to hold, behold
Futures in foreign touch—uncertain fodder
For a soul craving
Promises not found in the calming of unfelt
Goosebumps that compound uncertain fear.
But, O hearts, balance yourself; the flames of panic
And the winds of hope in isolation buffet
Around the other
Fanning stormy fire. In silent touch
Pinpricked tickles of warmth and care may be,
Unseen but true. Let inhibitions cry havoc and
Slip invisible fetters—wrap fingers, bones, nails,
Skin et al, around rails in darkness
That pull you forward.
The photo is taken from Arnaav Bhavanani’s album “metro.pol : nyc”.
Follow him at http://www.artxqc.wordpress.com