Poem — A Firm Handshake

Hello Friends,

Well, I tried my best, but simply could not get a second post out in March. I had a lot of ideas floating around in my head, one of which I’m hoping to put to paper soon after catching up on a certain fantasy anime, but nothing else felt finished. At least, until now. With that said, hope you enjoy it.

The door opened.
An older gentlemen that had been here before
walked through, excited as the last time.
Our eyes met, in the space where 
I pretended we were not still strangers
A smile that almost resembled my grandfather's, 
but hair the same length as mine, the type
he would have called us hippies for.
In the next moment, the stranger's hand was out.
I reached for it, unsure, and for a few seconds
it felt as though this was the last hand 
he would ever hold.
Despite engaging in this ritual before, 
it still felt foreign.

With men, silence always heavys the air,
breathing grief and loss like it is medicine
instead of poison. 
They seem not to remember that hands are tools
more than weapons, and healing comes only after 
the exhalation of words.

Thanks for reading, bye for now!

Originally published at http://vivianscheibelein.wordpress.com on April 4, 2024.