Reaching

What falls between the cracks unnoticed.

Stricken by the forced left hand.

Scabbed and challenged, spine set solid.

Christening tears refuse to bend.

Hair curled blindly round a finger.

Mind long wandering, hollow eyed.

Lips licked thickly, tasteful leather stretched too thin.

Smell of litter long since sifted.

Smoke and ashes, dust and filth.

Shady here in lonely wondering, shaded by a tree stripped bare.

Tracks like smiles and look beyond them.

Add the love not here to find.

Arched in bended plastic glory.

Reaching out from under ground.

Long forgotten, words left wind blown.

Waiting, waiting, reaching, broken.

Found as trash and hoarded down.

Heaps of broken glass for hire.

This is known.

For this is known.

Abandoned.

Recycled.

Discarded.

Kept frozen.

Unfeeling.

Unfolded.

Unknown.

Reaching for the sun.

Footsteps caress a solace unseen.

This heap for the broken and home for unclean.

A heart limbo stricken, unclaimed to the side.

A soul locked by form and with pride.

Waiting, waiting, reaching, broken.

*this poem is inspired by my latest adventure into an abandoned house. 

I think we can become locked in a place where we wait to be found, instead of realizing we are not objects. I don't generally explain my poetry, but in this case I feel the desire to. If we allow our world to crumble around us and succumb to the will of others, we are dolls trapped by debris. We will be picked up or set down by the whim of those who play with us. We will be forgotten, destroyed, trapped by our inability to function without the guidance of our manipulator. 

The good news is, it doesn't have to be this way. We are not dolls in rotting hoarder-homes. We can choose to live and love without permission. We can choose to realize our value. We can if we want to. It's up to us.

I know both sides of this, and chose to write the poem based on my familiarity with those feelings. But that is no longer how I choose to live. I recognize it and feel great sympathy, however I know the heart-beat begins when the waiting stops. No one can make that happen for someone else, it all begins within.