Beautiful eyes, looking hopeful; What can you give me that I can afford?
Weak smile, feeling nervous; Why do I fear you will ask for what I cannot give?
Strong hands, gripped tightly; Why does my rage rear voiceless in the roar of my hatred?
Arched back, now flattened; How does what is strong grow so weak when threat strides?
Eyes twinkling, tears splashing; How can laughter ring true in the storm?
Mouth open, saliva running; Why does rich spicing so draw anticipation’s reward?
Clapping hands; lifted high; Why does heart song exuberance give sound like the rain?
Torso spinning, now released; What can momentum flying say with such grace?
Eyes speaking, forceful sound; What will I do to hear?
Lips parted, creating vision; Why will I not see rawness beautified?
Fingers pointing, describing power; Why will I not smother power’s vice with love?
Core strength, opening vulnerability; How will I choose transparency’s hope to become?
Author – Bill Tidsbury