On the palm of my hands, I see lines of desperation, agitation, and contentment
To be swallowed by them as I hold them to my face
I am searching for something in between the cracks of my fingers
To peek through into the outer world which I fear never to come near

And I hide behind all, one by one, as if I cannot find myself the right place
Yet the life stares back and licks the surface of my eye to blind me once again
I surpass what I think I see to just shut them close for good
Yet the howling of the wind screaming in my ears forces me to look once more
Life just dancing around with filters too dark enough to penetrate with my own vision

Imaginable
Like sitting with the back facing forward and you rocking back and forth in it
Going nowhere now, and yet you’re still looking ahead and its very far now
And I drop my eyes back down to the lines
To look more closely at them, patterned and etch stains of birth, joy, and agony
Figurative story lines that shares your life to the world
And no wonder we walk around with balled fists

Fighting to punch out the shadows in our life,
Holding up the hands to the sky to pray for something better stand before the eyes
And as the wind blows against your face, your eyes shift closer to the surroundings
Now the life is coming to the corners, and my face is bathing in the wind
I look at my hands once more to understand the meaning of life

Screaming within and staring at the skies above,
your hands are the only powerful beings
Without them, you forget what you’ve done and how you got there in your life
Hands are canvases that etches out life for you to remember
That in hard times, we cannot hold our fists tight
Let go and just feel everything, hide from no one, and face the wind

 -Keisha S. Marshall