My hands

Here is a poem I wrote during a session of the writing group I joined. It harks back to my earlier ones on facebook, about a long distance relationship, the pain of the inevitable breakup and the way online networking helped me recover. I’m not still transfixed over this but it came to mind during a writing exercise, and I look upon this point as a significant part of my literary development, the birth of my dark side and the first poems I wrote that I felt were actual poems.


These hands have touched somebody across a kindred ocean,

They made a heart; they shared a dream made possible by the marvels of technology,

made impossible by society, practicality and geography.

These fingers told a romance beyond the senses,

Knew more than eyes, but believed in every word.

They felt the pain of the connection severed.

She couldn’t read my fortune, maybe it was a sign.

They blamed themselves and gave mutual punishment,

But they remained together, all of the time.

A pair that were made for each other,

They shared my loss and helped heal my mind.


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