Tag: touch
-
A Son’s Lament
It’s been over thirty-five years since I felt your motherly touch, and I no longer try to shape a garden of sorrow. Instead, I let the new grass flame, its green distinct from the old cold fire, whose embers tighten their ring with each passing year. I find joy in the crepe myrtles unfolding into…
-
Skin
SkinI felt the skin of my father—his thumb a soft shawlthat enveloped our intertwined hands.And when the embrace broke— how my tiny fingers traced the moss line of his skulluntil it became a familiar garden.How he would embrace mother, after-wards in her floral gown, so tenderly, thatI would sneak in later to smell the trace…
-
Touch, Please
Every one in your spaces will dieand you will never know if you willbe the last to touch them.Most will get our ragged stubs,a few, palm to palm caress, fewer still, your fingertips brushing their lifelines.They’re all going to die. That last touch is all theycan take with them beforethe crack in heaven splitsand they…
-
Remember the Grass
Delight in the cool grass,its elusive, delicate, shy,brush on your face,tingling arms, bare soles- for one day you will be too far beneath even its touch.