By Michellee

I felt happiness, in my hand,
and smiles here and there
kept creeping up onto me
while my back was turned.

And when I couldn’t control my hand,
it swayed this way and that –
swinging, flapping, slapping –
I thought I would go mad.

But when I laid my hand down flat,
when I felt truly strong,
I was able to feel real excitement
in my heart and not my hand.

Everything was still at last,
save for my racing red heart.
And I, my hand now beneath me,
sighed a sweet breath of rest.

When I rose at dusk to eat,
my unruly hand disobeyed.
It reached for a pen
And I knew that night I wouldn’t sleep.


Created: Jul 17, 2010


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