Family doesn’t mean friends.
Your world, so different than mine.
From childhood, we traveled separate paths.
I held you only once before the final turn
Of our parallel existence.
Safe, at last, in your separation,
Tortured by dreams unfulfilled; a fingertip and universe away.
Disappointment cried in rage; violence.
Open hands offered, slapped hard and fast.
Don’t. Can’t. Won’t.
Secret yearning in each rebuttal
”Show me that I’m wrong”...
Déjà vu of self defeat
Echoes through the years.
Seeds of change need fertile ground;
Reaching, grasping, seeking.
Can we touch for just one minute?
Grass on clay does not thrive.
Words on paper, whispers of my heart.
Our lives, a separate path, on which secret things occur;
Mysteries, unbridged by understanding.
I tried. I tried again.
My voice so thin and foreign to you now.
I pray someday for peace.